Chaos Effect 2: Revivification
by Freeride600
Summary: Not all who die are lost, not every ally really gone, not every foe truly defeated. Blood, tears, and death to keep the galaxy safe. And maybe a laugh somewhere along the way. Sequel to Chaos Effect: First Contact.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

**For some of you, welcome back. For some, welcome for the first time.**

**It's been a while since I was active on FF, but I assure you I've not been dead. Just traveling, working, and writing CE2:R. A fair warning – this will be a longer-than-usual A/N as I lay out a bit of groundwork.**

**So, if you happened to be wondering… Chaos Effect, as a series, is a little project built off of the Mass Effect galaxy. Races, technology, and history are all about the same as the games. There's obvious differences and some subtle, but the point was to move into an independent story.**

**May it be clear that this is a sequel (well, the title and description should give that away). If you haven't read Chaos Effect: First Contact, then most of this won't make that much sense. Not to say it can't be done, but I'd suggest you take a looksee at s/6696503. There's also CE:Dawning (s/9606083), which was meant to be a little filler between CE:FC and CE2.**

**Disclaimer stuff:**  
** -Bioware owns Mass Effect and all that jazz. You know how it goes.**  
** -The original characters and story of Chaos Effect are property of Freeride600**  
** -Etcetera.**

**Feel free to review or PM me with any questions or comments, and enjoy the read!**

**xxxx**

_Chapter null – Prologue_

_xxxx_

Beneath the scars, beneath the lost blood, broken bones and treachery of war, there was a man. By the time it was over, I no longer knew that man. In my reflection there was a machine.

A machine with crimson cybernetic eyes and slicked back hair.

/

_Reboot sequence initiated…_

…

_Performing hardware check..._

…_._

_New hardware found. Integrating… Complete._

…

_Loading core systems…_

…

_Checking memory banks for errors…_

_Bank 0: no errors found_

_Bank 1: no errors found_

_Bank 2: no errors found_

_Bank 3: errors found… Recovering… 100% success._

…

_Starting main processes… Finished. _

/

When you first arise from a deep slumber, there is only light and dark. No focus, only the movement of light. Your eyes and mind begin to focus, making shapes out of the movement. Those shapes begin to gain color and clarity.

I began to recognize the outlines of my hands in front of my face. The left a healthy, flesh color. The right a synthetic black. I knew they were mine; they both responded as I flexed my fingers. I focused on the two extremities as my mind began to sharpen.

Each breath was a struggle.

In a rapid, pained jolt I was aware that it was not air I was breathing. Water. I lashed out, trying to grab onto something past my focus. My hands hit an invisible barrier. Glass. I was trapped in the fluid, fighting against it.

Then release. I felt the pressure giving around me as the water drained away, first exposing my head and allowing for coughing gasps as it continued to lower around me. Without the liquid suspending me, I collapsed to my knees, pressing my hands against the glass prison.

Then that too gave way. I collapsed forward, landing on cold, hard floor. Still coughing and drenched, I pushed myself up on my hands and knees. Long, soaking hair fell over my face as I looked up. I managed to fall back onto my legs, so I sat there on my ankles. My arms were trembling from the tiny exertion, barely able to brush my hair back so I could see ahead. It had been a while since any of my muscles had seen use.

My ears were still full of water and all I could hear was the pounding of my heart. But my vision cleared enough to where I could see ahead.

An old man in a black suit sitting in wheelchair, flowing grey hair and wrinkled skin, watching me with a warm expression and waiting patiently.

I looked around to see if I had reason to panic, if I would need to fight. It was only the two of us, me and the old man, in a long room. Just wider than a hallway, black metal walls, floor, and ceiling. To my right there was a window, a big glass window that went from floor to vaulted ceiling.

It was blinding. A red star was not far away.

I turned back to the old man, shook my head and cleared out my ears.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, my boy."

I stared at him for several seconds, knowing that he seemed oddly familiar. After several seconds of trying to figure out how my voice worked again, I asked: "Who are you?"

"My name is Jack Trinder." He began, turning his wheelchair towards the window. "I must apologize for the introduction. Time has not allowed for the most attention to detail. I had hoped to give you more time to readjust and for us to prepare."

I shifted so that I too faced the window, shaking my head and pressing my palm against my brow. Everything was foggy. My thoughts were fleeting and uncoordinated. "Where are we? What's going on?"

"I'm afraid you have too many questions and I have too few answers." Jack replied. "I will answer what I can. This is the TIER headquarters, located in the Outer Rim."

"Tier?" I turned my head to the side, a bit of water flushing out of my right ear.

"It stands for Terminus Intelligence Enforcement and Recon. It has been my project. My way of trying change things for the better." He explained. "May I ask what your name was – or still is?"

"Jackson." I immediately stated, then went over the words again: "Forrest Jackson."

"Then welcome back, Forrest."

I rubbed my hands over my face, finally looking – rather, squinting – out at the star again. I didn't understand what he was saying. The words were there, but each held no meaning. I shook my head again, hair spinning around until I stopped and looked down my hands. One organic, one synthetic. I remembered why I had the synthetic one. A run-in with a whole troop of Mk.15s. Mean bastards, cybernetic prototypes that ran amok with four blades in place of arms. One had sliced my right hand clean off. My eyes ran along my new hand from the fingers back. I didn't know why the black metal and synthetic leather construction now extended to my shoulder, fusing with flesh at the joint. There had to be a reason. I would get answers sooner or later. Still, that was a while ago. Goddamn, it was all there. I remembered it was yesterday. The 517th, the Contractor. Azarith, Sovereign. Rana. Losing my mind and spacing myself. "How long have I been out?"

"I don't know when you went under." Jack replied and shook his head. "I can only tell you what year it is now."

"And?" I pressed. It couldn't be much past 2013. Hell, the Contractor war had come to a head in 2012.

"This may be quite the shock to you…" Jack began, "But it's the year 2190."

I broke, all thoughts abandoning me for several seconds. That wasn't just a few years. That was nearly two fucking centuries. "I'm sorry. Did you say _twenty-one ninety_?"

"I'm sorry, my boy. But yes."

"I went out in 2012." I noted blankly as I stared into space.

Just as soon as my memories had come back, everything had been shattered. I wasn't sure how to handle it all. So I sat there, still dripping wet, and thought about everything that would have changed, well aware of my tightening stomach.

Earth would be different. My parents would be long dead. Gone without as much as 'good-bye.'

I realized I was choking up. All the time I had spent on the 517th, I had assured myself I would one day return to earth, see the people I loved once more.

The 517th had certainly moved on, if they weren't disbanded. Or dead.

Kaira T'Suni. She would probably have blamed herself for my death. I needed to tell her that it wasn't her fault. That she was still one of the most incredible leaders.

Delina T'Kasan. My first thought that she would have been disgruntled that I went and spaced myself, since it would be more work for her. That was probably the case. But I also knew, as much as she tried to hide it, loved me like a sibling.

Rana T'Lan. Rana… I had no idea where to start, really. My chest constricted around my heart as I thought about her. Out of the entire squad, I felt the worst about leaving her as I had. Nearly killing her as my mind collapsed, then spacing myself and an overcharged Reaper avatar to protect her. Dammit, I hoped she was still alive. Would she understand my reasoning? Would she accept any form of apology? Or was I being selfish in trying to get clearance, to set things right, and I would only salt old wounds? The poor maiden had certainly moved on. After mending her own broken heart.

I realized my gut was knotting up. I felt like shit for how I had left the 517th. I had bailed on them, without so much as a farewell to Kaira or Delina, then spaced myself to keep clean of the Reaper Sovereign's control. Some teammate I had been. I hissed under my breath, tried to pretend the water on my cheeks was just run-off from my hair. "God damn it all…"

For me, it was just yesterday.

But that was 178 years ago.

xxxx


	2. Dead Man Rising

**A/N: Holy hell, thank you all for the awesome response to the first chapter! Awesome to have people supporting this story as it kicks off the second era... Not gonna spoil anything, but I think CE2 is going to be pretty awesome.**

**Editing and publishing stays on track for now! ;) Hope you enjoy the read.**

**xxxx**

_Chapter I – Dead Man Rising_

xxxx

I stood in front of the full-length mirror and tugged on the collar of my suit. The TIER headquarters were dark. Well lit, but every surface was black. The suit was no exception. Black. The undershirt was a dark grey, so that was a relief. I inspected my reflection. I found it all very strange, being back and all. And so much had changed with me, even.

I looked about twenty-one now. Old. I poked at the stubble on my cheek, realizing what a pain it was going to be having to shave all the time. My cybernetic hand had been upgraded, converted into a full-fledged arm. With the suit, I could only see the hand. Black, synthetic leather and carbon fiber plates. My terrifying, crimson glowing cybernetic eyes had been replaced too. They were still synthetic, but at least they looked natural now. A dark green. Not what they had been originally, but it was an improvement. And my hair. Apparently it had grown out while I was being revived. I had it tied back and it fell well past my shoulders.

I ran my right hand along the side of my face, remembering what it was like to feel. Even with my appearance different, I knew what I was.

A Reaper Sentinel.

A synthetic frame in an organic body. Well, mostly organic. I focused for a moment, a frame of red binary springing up in my peripheral vision.

The very coding that defined me. My thoughts, my memories, my simulated emotions. But it was quiet now. I realized, thinking back, that I had been fighting with Azarith for control of my own head for a while. There was noise, struggle. Hallucinations.

The other me with the slicked-back hair and red cybernetic eyes.

Had I really won? It seemed hard to believe. Azarith was dead, gone. Sovereign had tried to take control of my systems and very nearly succeeded. I could feel no intrusions as I stood there, staring into space and focusing on the red coding. After several seconds, I let the coding slip away and my vision returned to normal.

I thought back to the 517th. I had briefly gone over the extranet for something, for some bit of info, for some lead that would tell me that the three Asari were still alive. I found nothing. We had never existed, according to every record I could find, which was limited as many government records were destroyed during the war. Departments were under construction. Servers were destroyed. The Reaper War of 2187 had taken its toll there.

I didn't want to face the actuality that it was over. That they were dead, that we had l left them on such bad terms. I wanted to at least apologize, tell them that I was grateful, that I didn't mean to ditch them. I wasn't sure if I would have that chance. Not now, anyway.

I tugged at my collar once more before noticing Jack rolling up behind me. The old man was quiet. I turned around and faced him.

Goddamn, he looked familiar. Slender, wrinkled face. Green eyes. White, flowing hair that fell to his shoulders. He must have been seventy. Still in a wheelchair. He smiled at me and said. "Forrest… My apologies for the brief introduction. Now that you're settled in, I thought I could entreat you to a tour of this station – as well as answer any more questions you might have."

"Yeah." I responded. "I've got a lot."

"Very well. What do you want to know first?"

My first question was instantaneous. "The 517th. What happened to them?"

Jack looked at me for several seconds, clearly puzzled. "The 517th? Was that the unit you served on before?"

I nodded. "The 517th commando unit. Three Asari and me. I was serving with them when everything went south."

"I see." Jack nodded. "I ran a complete scan on your name. As far as I can tell, you have no history. According to the books, you never existed." He paused. "Now, we both know that's the case. But history is mean. Those details would have been swept away centuries ago, especially if you left Earth before Alliance unification."

"I know." I admitted, nodding once. I figured that was the truth I was going to have to face. It still fucking stung, though. "Alright. So all that's lost. Last thing I remember was running out of breath in space. I figure I died somewhere along the way, but I'm here now. How the hell did you bring me back?"

Jack looked out the window for several seconds before starting slowly. "We were sweeping a new sector of uncharted space when we happened upon a body. Your body. I'm sure you know about your nervous system being synthetic and all. Well, we recovered… you. I knew you were Reapertech, but I could also see that you were human. I needed answers. With recent events, I figured you might be an asset. Selfish, I know." He shook his head. "Much of your organic flesh had deteriorated over the years. That's why you woke up in the bio-tube. We had to use your DNA to essentially re-grew your body. Most of you is the same, but not all."

I stared down at my hands. That was weird.

"Your nervous structure survived just fine. Except for your right arm. I assume you had a bionic hand from before, did you not?"

I nodded.

"I figured as much."He nodded. "Well, the synthetic structure atrophied. We had to replace the entire arm. It seems to have been integrated, but even with the inclusion of new nanotechnology and software it will not last forever."

"Nor will I." I pointed out.

"True enough." Jack agreed.

"So," I began, turning my hands over and inspecting them, noting that they did not match, "Am I still me? Am I still really Forrest?"

"We tried to keep you intact. Your memories, your genetics, your frame are all the same as before. You should be the same. You just have a fresh start."

"Yeah. And I need to get in shape." I grumbled, poking at my left bicep. I was even skinnier than before. Now I barely had muscle mass. I was actually scrawny.

"Providing you're willing, that's part of the plan. We need to get you back in the action." He turned and began to wheel towards the exit. "Come along. We'll see the rest of the station."

"Sure." I began to follow, then spoke. "Trinder, can I ask you a question?"

"Please, call me Jack. What answers can I give you?"

"You were able to rebuild me with nanotech, bring back a dead man. How… How come you're stuck in a wheelchair?"

He stopped for a minute, staring at the floor bleakly. "My boy, not all wounds are physical. A broken spirit is not something that can be fixed by technological advancements or medical inventions."

xxxx

"So," I began, "What exactly is TIER? Terminus Recon or whatever?"

We were making our way along a walkway above a hanger. Like the rest of the station, everything was fricking polished black. I could about see the undersides of the craft below because the floor was so shiny. There were two frigates in that specific hanger, medium sized by the looks of them, then racks on each side. On the left, there were fighters. Black with white stripes on their right wing. Probably thirty or so in total. Then on the right, there were racks full of hoverbikes. Hot damn, that was exciting.

"TIER," Jack started to explain, slowing to a stop and looking off the walkway down on the bustling hanger, "Terminus Intelligence Enforcement and Recon. I founded it seven years ago. I suppose you could consider it a paramilitary organization. The Traverse has and always will be lawless and brutal, but we're trying to at least contain that violence, keep it from spilling out on a fragile galaxy."

I nodded slowly, leaning on the railing, watching Asari, Turians, Humans, Salarians, even a few Batarians bustling about the hanger. Cooperation. "A fragile galaxy, huh?"

"I suppose you don't know about the Reaper War."

I shook my head even though I had looked it up on the extranet. I probably didn't know all that much.

"Well…" Trinder started to wheel on again. "A single Reaper, Sovereign, attacked the Citadel seven years ago. It had the intention of opening a massive relay and hailing the Reaper fleet. Between the Alliance and the other Council fleets, we drove it back. Destroyed it. It was the first time the Council had to fight off a serious attack… and it marked the induction of Humans onto the Council."

We paused as we reached the end of the walkway, waiting for an elevator. I smirked. Sovereign was dead. No more worrying about losing my mind.

Jack continued: "Four years later, the Reaper fleet reached the Terminus. Nobody was prepared, and we quickly found out that even our best fleets were outnumbered and outclassed. Our ships, our worlds were devastated." He shook his head and wheeled onto the lift. I followed behind, clasping my hands behind my back and listening as he talked. "We assumed that they were a unitary, opposing force, so the Alliance did not even attempt communications. The war went on for several months, reaching every homeworld and wrecking destruction everywhere. Then… Then something changed. To this day, we do not know what happened. A group of Reapers splintered off from the fleet and called themselves 'Azarith's Guardians.'"

"Azarith?" I asked. I remembered the Reaper from before. He had made me what I was now, and admittedly he had a vision. A vision that this cycle of organics could sustain and would not have to be eradicated. The same vision that got us both killed.

Trinder nodded. "We never figured out who Azarith was, but his splinter group tore a hole right through the main fleet. We were able to turn the tide, fight alongside the Guardians and drive back the invasion."

"Well, seeing as we're still here… I take it we won." I assumed out loud. "Did any of those Guardians survive?"

"As far as I know, five survived. Once the main force had been destroyed, they vanished without a trace. We assumed that they returned to Dark Space and we only assumed that they did not want more conflict."

"Guess I owe Azarith another one." I shook my head.

"You know of him?"

"Yeah. He was a rebel Reaper, if you will." I began, thinking back to the massive machine. "He also made me what I am now. Implanted me with nanotech and brought me into the fight. I was his avatar right until Sovereign arrived."

"I take it you met Sovereign as well, then." Jack inquired.

"Well, he killed Azarith and tried to repurpose me." I noted grimly. "So yeah."

"What year did that happen?"

"It came to a head in 2012." I responded simply.

Jack nodded. "I see." He sounded like he wanted to elaborate more, but didn't.

We finally got off the lift, stepping into a hallway. Looked like work areas to each side. Finally, I asked: "So… how do you fit into this? Why TIER?"

Jack was quiet for several seconds as he rolled along, quiet and seeming deep in thought. When he spoke, it was quiet and deliberate. "I was in the Alliance military. A commander. I lead the 423rd Airborne Brigade right into battle against Sovereign. Eighty men, all decades younger than me. Three of us survived. That was the final straw for me. To see those good men killed following my orders, because the Alliance was so set on having every last military craft involved in the fight. We weren't prepared. We weren't even trained to attack dreadnoughts. The three of us that survived were lost in the confusion and rubble. So I disappeared. Collected a few samples from Sovereign's debris and retreated to the Terminus."

Perhaps he was younger than he looked.

"That's probably when this happened, huh?" I asked, gesturing to his wheelchair.

"Yes… yes it was. A support beam collapsed and broke my lower back in five places. But having killed my squad kept me unable to recover."

"Damn." I shook my head. "That's rough."

"It was. But it also drove me to found TIER, to try and do something different." He shook his head. "it has not been a smooth road. Other paramilitary groups, Cerberus from Earth, Typhon from Palaven, have made our type of organization infamous, feared and hated."

"What was Cerberus?" I asked. I hoped it wasn't what the legends had foretold.

"In short… they were a human organization that operated recklessly, setting a rather undesirable reputation for similar groups. They also ended up allying with the Reapers."

"Well shit." So Azarith was right. I didn't remember any mention of the second point, though.

"Needless to say, the Council has not been receptive of TIER. Even though we have nothing to hide, our operations are forced to be secretive." He continued on, seeming to pay little mind to the people bustling about with guns or armor. "And unfortunately, TIER is necessary right now. We are waging a war on an enemy almost more ruthless than the Reapers. In part, that is why I hold hope in you. You may know more than we do."

"I doubt that." I shook my head sadly. "For all my upgrades and electronics, I still can't remember shit sometimes."

"Perhaps…. But anything will help now." Jack turned into a room to our right. A small armory, fully equipped. He wheeled to the center of the room and stopped, turned around and faced me. "The enemy we're going up against now calls himself 'The Contractor.'"

_Back up a minute_.

I stood there in the doorway, no, I was frozen there, for several seconds.

_It can't be. We killed him centuries ago._

"The Contractor?" I finally managed to ask. "Please don't tell he's back too. The grey and red armor, the Reaper-tech, the galactic army…"

Jack looked disheartened. "I'm afraid so, my boy. I didn't know how you fit in, but he launched search raids over a year ago, looking for an old Reaper sentinel. Said he wanted it destroyed. I take it you tussled before."

I began pacing, digging my fingers into my hair as my mind raced. Panic. At first I couldn't even discern the processes. Last time around, I had a squad. People stronger than me, smarter, more experienced. I didn't have the 517th now. I had TIER. Resources, maybe. They seemed harmless enough for the time being, but it was not the total trust I had with my squad. "It can't be the same Contractor. We killed him in 2012, ended his rampage then and there. There's no way he could have come back. I just… no. It has to be something else."

"Tell me if these look familiar, then." Jack instructed as he raised an omni-tool and brought up a highly detailed holo of some stony ruins. And amidst the stones, there were machines. Cyborgs with very few organic parts left. Grey plating over their entire body, two sets of arms both armed with razor-sharp metal blades, thin, crimson slats in the place of eyes.

I felt my heart drop as I recognized them: "Mark Twenty-Fives.

Mk.25s. The old Contractor's ultimate battle platform. Take a functioning person, implant them with enough cybernetics to build a legion of droids, arm them with blades, reprogram them, and set them loose.

"I'm sorry to break all of this to you, Forrest. I truly am." Jack apologized. "We're in a race now, TIER against the Contractor. I don't know what he has planned, but if what we have seen is any indication… may God have mercy on us all."

I stopped pacing and sat down on a workbench. I didn't say a word. I just sat there and stared at the floor. I didn't know what to do or think. I had barely been able to keep myself together knowing that everything else had gone to hell. But knowing that the Contractor was back?

"I understand that this is a tremendous burden to put on anyone. I will help you however I can, but you know what it will take to fight the Contractor."

"I need to get back in fighting shape. We'll need weapons and armor. A squad. A fast ship. And I need time to hunt this bastard down again." I explained, my blank expression not reflecting the fury in my words.

"I can assist with the first four. Time… I can only do so much to change that." Jack explained. "For weapons and armor, this room is yours. You'll have access to everything TIER possesses."

"You trust me?" I asked, raising my brow skeptically. "Just like that when you know that I'm a Reaper Sentinel?"

"My boy, things are never clear cut. Allies can be the most powerful enemies, and enemies can be the most powerful allies. I know what you are. And I know you were Azarith's creation. If you believe the same as he did…"

"Heh. I guess I do." I shook my head. Strange to think that we stood for the same cause all along. We sure fought like we weren't.

"Mutual trust will be the means by which we are able to survive." Jack explained. "Now, as for a squad… I have three specialists in mind. The decision is ultimately yours, but they have my recommendation."

"Alright. Let's get started, then."

xxxx


	3. The Human, the Salarian, and the Vorcha

**A/N: So far so good - we're staying on schedule! Chapter two is here. I promise, we'll get to combat one of these days. One day real soon. **

**In the meantime, enjoy the chapter. If you have comments, criticism, or praise, be sure to drop a review or PM. Cheers!**

**xxxx**

_Chapter II – The Human, the Salarian, and the Vorcha_

xxxx

A few days had passed, time enough to start building my strength back and get a better idea of Jack and TIER. Sleep, eat, train, repeat. I had tried to keep my mind as busy as possible, follow current events in a galaxy that was barely on its feet after the Reaper War, keep myself worn down so that I didn't keep thinking back to the 517th. As for TIER, well, it had only been a few days. I still didn't know what to think.

So there we were, Jack and I, as we returned to the lower hangers of the TIER station. Well, hangers were only part of the deal. There was everything you could ever need. Armories, labs, test ranges, combat simulators. Everything. It took up five blocks, and last I checked, there were about two hundred blocks in the station. About two thousand personnel, troops, and specialists.

So there we were, Jack and I moving along silently. I was comfortable with our silence. The old man in the wheelchair, and me in my fucking suit. We were looking pretty sharp.

"So…" Trinder began. "I've lined out a few specialists that could be assigned to your squad."

"Thank you." I nodded. "Anything else down here?"

"I thought you might also want to start training again." He suggested.

"Yeah." I slowly agreed. "See where I stand now."

"I will warn you of the possibility of a difference from what you remember." He noted. "During your reconstruction, some blocks were put in place to ensure that no Reapers or higher control could take control of your systems. It was the safest option."

"Well, thanks for the warning at least." I played it off, but I felt resentment rising. Of course they didn't just revive me. They had to fucking meddle.

I didn't get to dwell on that for very long before we reached the combat testing grounds. They were simply another bay next to the hanger. Perhaps twenty by twenty meters. A few crates and targets about. Empty, except for one TIER operator. A woman, probably a few years younger than I (if I considered myself twenty-one). She was wearing black casual wear, wielding a pistol and evidently keeping her skills sharp on some targets.

She paused and turned around as we entered the room, lowered her pistol, and regarded us with flighty blue eyes. Fair-skinned, she had blond hair, no telling how long since it was tied up in a tight bun. "I can leave now, if you'd like."

"No need, Samantha." Jack responded warmly. "I'd like you to meet Forrest Jackson."

She nodded once and looked me over suspiciously, as though I was there to prove something to her.

Jack turned to me and introduced her to me. "Forrest, this Samantha Roxin. She's one of our heavy armor specialists – and a potential for your squad."

"How d'ya do?" I greeted, trying to be slightly more welcoming.

"Hey, so we finally get to meet you. "She stepped back and folded her arms, then motioned to a rack of armor. "Whenever you're ready, we've got armor of all styles and sizes."

"Thank you?" I offered.

She nodded once, watching me intently as I approached the racks. Then she spoke again. "Trinder told me a little bit about you. At least, the project. Were you military before?"

"Sort of." I replied, digging through sets of light armor, trying to find something narrow and tall enough. I didn't know what the hell kind of light armor TIER had. It was fucking light. Lighter than commando leathers even. "I served on a commando squad. Designated as a vanguard. I was good with biotics and guns."

"Asari commandos?" She asked, starting to grin. "Pretty lucky."

"Lucky isn't the term I would use." I shot back, finally finding armor that matched my profile. It was still in a sealed box. "It ended with me dying and my squad falling apart."

"Oh, be a buzzkill about it, hey?" Samantha seemed to take back what she said about me being lucky.

"Where you from?" I asked as I began stripping down to the technical layer I wore under my suit, then start tugging on the light armor.

"Citadel, originally. My family raised me there."

Jack sat back quietly as Samantha and I conversed and I got my armor on.

"No kidding, eh?" I said as I buckled up and inspected my armor. Well, sneaking suit was probably a better term. It was light, thin armor designed for flexibility. Black weave in most places, except for metal plates on the chest, and critical points on the arms and legs. It was incredibly mobile.

"Yeah." She replied. "They ran a tech supply store. So I grew up around omni-tools and all kinds of crazy prototypes. I joined the Alliance two years ago and got stuck on a recovery crew. TIER recruited me after I kept changing parameters on their satellites." She chuckled and glanced over at Jack. "So yeah. What about you?"

"Earth, originally. For what that's worth."

"How many years ago was that?"

I didn't know right off. "It's been a while."

"He's been in a suspension state for nearly two centuries." Jack pointed out. "That may tell you something."

"Well damn. You're old then." She noted callously. It seemed that pleasantries didn't hold much value to her, or she had a strange sense of humor.

"You could look at that way, Samantha."

"Er… Sam works." Roxin replied uncomfortably.

"Right then." I nodded. "Let's start, shall we?"

Jack wheeled over and explained, "That's assassin armor you're wearing. Light, but equipped with kinetic plating."

"Plating?" I must have sounded surprised.

"Yes. Similar to kinetic shields, but the deflecting fields lie directly on the armor."

I flicked my left forearm and a hexagonal spiderweb of white lines spread out. "That's awesome. Prothean tech, right?"

"Loosely adapted from their designs, yes." Jack responded. "Updated for our times, though."

"Anyone else have this stuff?" I asked. _Best to keep up with the crowd_.

"Just TIER." Jack smiled.

"Good to know." I nodded, cracking my knuckles as I turned to the practice range. It felt like it had been too long since I'd really let my biotics flare.

Something was wrong.

I raised my right hand, launching out my fingers and going through the motions, through the muscle triggers, to activate my biotics and send a throw into one of the training dummies.

Nothing. No throw. Not even a biotic aura.

I stood there for several seconds in silence, staring at my hand and keeping the stream of profanities contained in my head. I clenched both fists, forcing myself to form biotic blades.

Only anger, not a biotic field, was engulfing me. It was bad enough to realize my biotics were dead. It was worse knowing that I was being watched, judged, assessed, reclassified. I lowered both arms, flexed my shoulders, then thrust myself forward, waiting for the field corridor.

I stumbled forward a step. Nothing.

"Forrest…" Sam interrupted, "Try a tech blade."

I turned around just in time to catch a short, black handle. Seemed like a katana, sans blade. I held it for a second, baffled and temporarily forgetting my troubles. Then I figured out how to activate it, and a 70-centimter blade sprang to life. It seemed the same as hologram technology, projecting a thin, yellow blade. I could tell that it was no hologram, deadly as it cut through the air. "Alright. Give me something to swing at."

Jack brought up his omni-tool and ran through a few commands. A moment later, five training droids deployed.

Like everything else in the station, they were black. Humanoid looking bots, each armed with a tech blade.

I gripped my own tech blade in two hands, falling right into a battle stance, sizing the droids up. They weren't very fast. I got bored. Well, I was already riled up, and I just needed an excuse to let loose. I sprinted at one, blade drawn back, charging to deliver every last bit of force I could muster.

The droid blocked my blow (even at full force, I hadn't regained enough strength to land a very hard hit). A second later, it struck back. Wide, right-handed horizontal swing. I blocked it. Barely. I wasn't able to recover before the droid struck again. I couldn't block fast enough.

The blade hit the side of my ribs, kinetic plating absorbing most of the impact. It was still gonna leave a bruise, though. I was able to block the next slash, then swing again myself. My blow was strong, but the droid was able to deflect it and drive its blade into my forearm. Again my kinetics absorbed the damage.

I didn't even see the second droid as it flanked me from the left. I only felt the blade slam into my shoulder.

I leapt away. Well, it was more of a stumble to get out of the way before I could get hit anymore, and I backpedaled to where I was safe for few seconds.

"Sam," I began, switching the my one tech blade to my left hand and looking back at the young TIER specialist. "Throw me another sword."

She hesitated for a moment, clearly thinking I was out of my damn mind. But finally she complied and threw me another tech sword.

I caught and activated the second katana in my right hand. Swinging both about, one on each side, I felt much more at home.

The training droids. I narrowed my eyes as they tramped towards me. Red binary sprang up around my vision as I accessed core functions:

/

_System clocks increased…_

…

_Targeting protocols updated…_

…

_Kill protocols engaged._

/

I let out a roar as I charged at the first two bots, blindly running in at them. Just as they expected me to impact them, I dropped down and slid right under their defenses.

My blades sliced right through their legs. As they fell down, I scrambled back to my feet, spun both blades around, and stabbed both bots in the torso to finish them off. From a crouch I leapt back into a sprint, hopping onto a low crate and then vaulting over the next two bots. They were barely able to track me, let alone turn around, by the time I landed and drove a blade through each.

That left one training droid. It kept coming towards me at the same pace.

I spun the blades around in my hands, testing my reflexes as I walked towards the bot. The yellow blades illuminated yellow circles by my sides as I spun then and waited to get in range.

Then I struck. First deflecting the bot's blade with my right sword, then jabbing it right in the chest with my left. As it staggered back, I wound up both arms and hit the droid's head with both of my blades. The suspended energy cut right through the metal. I drew both swords back and then scissored right through its chest, cutting it in half. Then and only then did it have my permission to collapse to the floor in a pile of metal and damaged electronics.

I stood there for a second. Deactivating both swords, I turned back to Jack and Sam. I didn't hide the bitterness in my voice, but it was pushed under by my heaving breath. Out of shape. "I _used_ to be a biotic."

Sam stared at me for several seconds as I approached, then nodded approvingly. "Damn. I guess you can kick some ass. I wasn't sure at first."

I nodded at her, just to be polite, but my glare was focused on Jack. "You said uplink blocks were the only things you changed in my system."

"They are the only thing we added or changed. My boy, I tell you the truth when I say your processes are the same. We changed nothing else." The old man responded. He wasn't mad or defensive. He just seemed… downtrodden.

It didn't make sense. I was a biotic before. Why wasn't I now? I was the same, wasn't I? Wasn't I? I relinquished, realizing I had let my anger take over. "I'm… sorry. It's just a shock to me."

"I imagine most of this is a shock." Jack shook his head sadly. "I am sorry too – sorry that I can do more to help you."

"Well. I guess I'll have to move on. Take a new designation." I noted, looking to both Jack and Sam. "Ideas?"

"Well, you can handle tech swords. I would say assassin." Sam suggested, quickly adding, "But that's just me talking."

Jack seemed to agree. "Yes, that seems fitting enough. At least to start."

"Alright. What should I do with this gear, then?" I asked, referring to the light armor I was wearing and the blades that I was holding.

"They're yours. That is a basic Assassin kit." Jack responded. "They're not demos or scaled down versions."

I nodded slowly, taking a second to figure that out. But I finally got it, and found the holsters for the two tech swords. They fit right on the inside of my forearms, the black handles tucked away neatly. And for another minute, I stood there and stared at my armor. I was impressed with TIER gear. "Right then. I didn't come down here just to show off. You said you were a heavy…. Was it heavy armor specialist?"

She just nodded, strolling across the hold in front of Jack and I. "Well, I guess you could say that. Thanks to TIER, I would say it's a little more than heavy armor. I mean, nothing special…" She paused, standing in front of a bulky covered form that was about as tall as she was, maybe a little taller, and yanked off the black veil. "Just Doomsday armor!"

I stared blankly. It was a motorized exoskeleton that Sam was gesturing at. She grinned at us, then turned around and stepped back into the small frame. Really, it wasn't much bigger than an armored Krogan. Hardly looked the same, though, as it folded up around her, bits of armor sliding into place as it powered up.

It looked more like a 1920s diving suit blended with modern tech. Especially the helmet. Big, round bulky thing that sat near the front of the armor with a few viewports. And there were weapons, too. A Gatling gun on the left arm, an accelerator cannon on the right.

"Any questions?" She boomed, voice amplified by the Doomsday armor.

"Yeah." I began, folding my arms and looking over the heavy armor unit. "Just one."

"And that is?"

I smiled a little, knowing how direct I was. "How do you feel about being on my squad?"

The set of heavy armor stared me down for several seconds before responding.

"Count me in."

xxxx

"I still don't like this." I reminded Jack as we moved down the hallway, him in his wheelchair and me in my new assassin armor. "I used to be a proficient biotic."

"I don't doubt you." Jack responded. "But a hundred and eighty years change a tremendous amount. I know it seems like only yesterday to you, but the years take their toll. Take your arm for example."

I glanced down at my right arm. Under the assassin armor, it seemed just like my left arm. But Jack had a point; in 2012 it had only been a replacement hand. Jump to 2190, and it had regressed to a full bionic arm.

"Even Reaper nanotech is subject to the torments of time. I doubt that your arm was the only thing to atrophy." Jack noted.

I nodded silently. He was probably right, but it was a reality I didn't want to face. Or accept.

"I would advise that you don't dwell on the negative. You may not be in the best situation now, but few people get such second chances."

"Yeah. Wish it was that easy to just forget about everything and the way it was." I grumbled.

Jack stopped in front of a door to his left, and agreed. "I wouldn't expect you to transition over perfectly. If you so choose, it will be an ongoing struggle – but it will be your struggle. I can only help and advise."

"Well, thank you." I replied solemnly. I wasn't about to give up on this fight, and I couldn't keep carrying on as I was, moping and holding on the past. I would overcome.

"Of course, my boy. Now, I don't mean to cut this conversation short – we can certainly discuss it in more depth later – but are you ready to meet the next squad candidate?"

"Yes sir."

Jack activated the door and we stepped into an armory. It was rather humble if you just took into account the size, perhaps four by five meters of floor space, but the walls spoke otherwise as they were laden with weapons of all sorts. Rifles, shotguns, pistols, more deactivated tech blades.

"Trinder." A Batarian saluted as we entered. Looked to be in his mid twenties, dark olive skin with a few scant grey markings on his face and a dash of white paint on his chin to look like a soul patch. TIER casual wear. Well, slacks and a black sleeveless vest. He only glanced at me, keeping his focus on Jack.

"At ease, Jakur." Jack responded, seeming friendly towards the young grunt. "Jakur Larkwood, meet Forrest Jackson."

"Good to meet ya." I stepped up to shake Larkwood's hand and he did the same. He had a right solid grip, but already I could tell I was going to have trouble figuring which set of eyes to make contact with.

"And likewise." Jakur responded. He had dark blue eyes, yet something about the way he looked about seemed…for lack of a better word, soft. Like he wasn't quite in his element.

"Jakur is one of our dedicated soldiers. He's a proficient sniper and weapons manager." Jack explained while looking at me. Then he turned to Jakur. "Forrest is the recovered cyborg I mentioned before. He's designated as an assassin now."

"Oh yeah. I remember that. I'll be damned to see a dead dude walking again." Jakur shook his head.

"Yes indeed…" Jack chuckled and shook his head. "I've got some filing to complete, but I'll leave you two to get acquainted. Jakur, make sure Forrest has a proper kit. Forrest, when you're done, feel free to wander around on your own accord."

"Sure thing, sir." Jakur replied.

"Yes sir." I nodded once and watched silently as Jack rolled out of the armory. Then I looked back to the gun-laden walls and to Jakur. "So, you're the arms specialist here?"

"Sure am. I've been working for TIER for two years now. Before the war, I was a mercenary on Illium." He paused. "Well, I had a set of armor and an assault rifle. I worked in a gun store there, worked as security guard on the side."

"And you became an arms specialist how?" I asked curiously. Didn't seem like being a store clerk would do a whole hell of a lot.

"Oh, well… I kinda got through Alliance basic, then I trained on the side. Every morning I'd go practice with my sniper. An old model Reaper. Got to where I could shoot the lock out of a hovercar from 300 meters." He shrugged. "You want to see my loadout?"

"Sure."

"Right now, my main rifle is a Viper. Sniper, modded to TIER specs." Jakur looked around the armory several times, as if forgetting where he had set it. Finally he located the rifle on a nearby bench, picking up the collapsed rifle, unfolding it, then handing it to me.

I looked the Viper over for several seconds. It had been painted to match everything else that TIER had. Black. It was a strange setup, too. "Why would you run a red-dot sight on a sniper?"

"Dude, everyone asks me that. You got way more awareness of what's going around you. Plus you stand a better chance at mid range."

I grunted, rather unconvinced. "Well, it's an interesting setup."

"It works." He collapsed the rifle and set it back. "So… you want to get set up with an assassin kit, right?"

"I guess. I'm used to running a shotgun and an assault rifle."

"Well damn…" Jakur shook his head. "I don't know how they thought it was a good idea, but when the engineers designed the assassin armor with docks for a pistol and a shotgun, nothing more."

"That's annoying. I guess it would be too much work to add in more docks?"

"Oh yeah. Especially on specialist armor like that." Jakur shook his head. "So, what rigs do ya want? Pistol – heavy, light, what's your preference?"

"I used to have a heavy revolver. Got anything like that?"

"Sure dude!" Jakur beamed. "We just got a new crate of MR13s in last week. Magnum revolvers. Right up your alley."

I just sat back and watched as he tore open three or four crates, then finally found what he was looking for. A brand, spanking new sidearm, not dissimilar to my RR12 of days past. It was, well, a big revolver. The new MR13 had a longer barrel, probably forty centimeters, black except for a few red accents. He handed it to me by the handle. Looked like it was gonna be a single-action only.

"Shit." I murmured as I took the magnum revolver in my right hand, feeling how hefty it was. _Speak softly and carry a big gun, right?_

"You'll probably take some time to get used to the new heat management system. Most everyone phased out thermal clips after the Reaper War. Alliance marines got in some awful situations because they ran out of clips." Jakur explained, then suddenly realized: "Wait, you never used thermal clips, did you?"

I shook my head, barely understanding the point behind having disposable thermal canisters anyway. "Nope, we just had heatsinks back in the day. Had to deal with guns overheating and all."

"Then you won't have any issue now." Jakur shrugged. "I had a hard time switching. Kept trying to eject the clip when my rifle overheated. Yeah… Anyway, we don't have many options for shotguns. Not many people use them anymore. Hell, after facing a horde of husks, I wouldn't go anywhere without. But all we got right now is Shredders." He dug through another crate and quickly procured a slender, squared-off shotgun. Black with white stripes running diagonally across the foregrip. It looked light as he handed it to me. "Here we go."

"Shredder, huh?" I asked, unfolding it my hands.

"You – er, we build them here." Jakur explained. "High rate of fire, semi-auto. The heatsinks are joined to the outer casing to drop heat faster. It's kinda like an assassin. Light, fast… and, um... made by TIER?" The soldier scratched the side of his head rather awkwardly. He didn't seem to quite have that comparison figured out.

"Yeah. I got it." I nodded, letting him play off his slip as I inspected the Shredder once more, then swung it around to dock on the back of my waist. "Well Jakur. I don't suppose you'd be up for a little target practice, would ya?"

"Any day." He beamed, actually grinning for once. "There's a range just down the hall. Let me grab my Viper and we can go."

I waited the three seconds it took for Larkwood to grab his gun and worded the question in my head first. "So what do you think about TIER?"

He looked surprised at first, staring at me rather blankly with the collapsed rifle in his hands. "I… I dunno. I could give you a list of things I like here."

"Just be honest. I'm still on the fence myself." I shrugged, trying not to pressure him too much as we started towards the door.

"Well geez, that's a Krogan-sized order right there. But OK." Jakur shook his head. "I didn't trust them at first. Too much shit went down with paramilitary groups from Earth going rogue and all that jazz. Especially after the War. But Jack was ex-Alliance. Figured I could trust him. Now that I'm here… I love the weapons and the tech. I kinda like the work, too. Working close to the law, and not a whole lot of moral black area. Ya know?"

"Not really. I just got here, remember?"

"Oh right, sorry. I forget that sometimes. Anyway, yeah. Jack's been open with me on most all of our missions and goals. I've yet to have an issue with them. We're not going around torturing people or abducting civvies for experiments, so that's cool. I kinda miss living on a planet, though. I haven't seen Zavalon since… well, not since the war. And the people around here aren't too bad. There's a few shady characters in the ranks, but Jack seems OK…. Then there's Roxin. Talk about a bombshell."

I raised my eyebrow upon hearing the comment about Sam. Maybe I was out of touch, still too focused on Rana. When I actually thought about it, I realized that she was quite the looker.

"Does that kinda answer your question?" Jakur asked.

"Eh, more or less for now. Thanks." I nodded as another door opened and we stepped into an open firing range. Maybe 80 meters long.

"Sure. You wanna have the first go with your new kit?"

"Might as well." I shrugged and stepped up to the plate. The automated target was at the very end of the range, so I went for the MR13. I was hesitant, all things considered, but as soon as I grabbed the handle I felt back in my element. I raised the revolver, holding it with both hands as I aimed down the iron sights.

I squeezed the trigger. As expected, it kicked like a bastard. And a shaving tore through the target. Slightly off-center. Good enough. I hadn't lost my touch with a gun, at least.

"Those MR13s have holographic sights on 'em too. I heard of a few lunatics sniping people with em on Illium."

"That's good to know." I commented, switching on the longer-range sight. I didn't understand how they could cram magnification into a holographic projection, but I wasn't about to complain.

"I know, right? This one guy was standing right next to me when a shaving went right through his head. Scary shit." Jakur rambled on.

"I was talking about the sights, but OK." I chuckled as I lined up another shot. It was harder to keep steady with the x5 zoom, so I let the barrel drift gently, minded my breath. Then when it was time, pulled the trigger.

Dead on target. I deactivated the holo scope, then holstered the sidearm.

"Nice shot." Jakur commented.

"Thank ya. Wanna have a go?

"Sure, why not?" The soldier returned, activated his Viper and bringing it to his shoulder

I leaned back against the wall and watched.

Watched as he lined up on the target 70 meters away with a reflex sight. Watched as he pulled the trigger. Heard as the shot hit the wall at the far end of the range. He had clean missed the target.

"I -I swear this never happens!" Jakur protested hurriedly, loading another shot.

I couldn't keep from chuckling. "Not the first time you've had to use that excuse, eh?"

"What's that supposed to – aww, man. Don't even joke about that kind of stuff!"

"Fine, fine. I don't really care if you can hit a target or not. Not a stationary one, anyhow." I looked around, spotting a sole credit chit on a nearby bench. Judging by the gashes in it, the thing was no good. So I picked it up, holding it between two fingers. "Think fast!"

I flicked the chit out into the range sending it into the air ten meters in front of Jakur.

There was no hesitation. He swung his rifle up and barely had time to aim before pulling the trigger. The Viper cracked again.

A shaving tore through the chit, sending it whirling away before hitting the floor. Jakur lowered his rifle, almost surprised at his own reflexes.

"Now that's a nice shot." I commented, chuckling as I strode forward and clapped a few times.

"Hey, just another day." Jakur shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. The giddiness in his voice kind of gave him away.

"So…" I began, cracking my knuckles to buy myself time to think. "Jack sent me down here to help assemble a squad. Apart from stationary targets, I'd say you make the cut."

"Hey, that only happened one time!" Jakur insisted. "But what's this about being on a squad? I've just been tasked random missions. I've wanted to be part of a freaking squad since I joined TIER."

"So I take that as 'yes, I'm in.'"

"Hells yeah. Just let me know what I need to get ready."

xxxx

"Larkwood is in." I began, staring out the window and standing next to Jack. "Seems like he's looking forward to it."

"That's good news. You'll need specialists, and Jakur is an excellent sniper." Jack noted, staring out with the close-by star's light falling on his face to illuminate the wrinkles and scars as he spoke, leaning forward on one arm of the motorized wheelchair, as he continued. "Samantha is a dependable Doomsday armor operator. And now there's a proficient assassin. You."

I nodded slowly and clasped my hands behind my back. I had gone through all of this with few reservation, few questions as to what was going on around me or what I was going to be tasked to, for I knew that it would be no simple chore if Jack had gone put in all the effort to revive my organic frame. I asked, "So who's going to be leading this squad of specialists?"

To my surprise, Jack laughed heartily then looked at me. "Well, of course you are! Who else did you think would be in command?"

I hadn't thought about it, nor did I want to. I could barely look after myself before. How the hell was I supposed to look after other people? I stammered over my words. "I- listen, I wasn't a commander before. I'm hardly qualified."

"You're far more qualified then you give yourself credit for, my boy." Jack shook his head, turned his wheelchair around and began back towards the center of the room, the center of the lounge where there were low tables and a black leather couch facing.

"I still don't think I can do it." I insisted. "I definitely don't want to."

"There are many things that we do not want to do, but in this case it is necessary. You know what it will take to fight the Contractor. And ask yourself this, my boy: if not you, who else? Who else will be able to rise to the task, lead a squad and put to rest what Spectres and governments cannot? Tell me. Who else?"

I thought as I walked, hands still clasped behind my back as my gaze slumped to the floor and stayed there as I ran through options, dead-end ideas that lead nowhere but back to where I was, where I walked forward. I answered. "I don't know."

"This is a major transition for you, from soldier to commander. There is no doubt that you will be challenged, pressed to learn. But I would not have considered this if I did not think you were capable. No, not just capable, but adept." He paused as we reached the table and couch, motioned to the black leather and said, "Have a seat."

I sat. My hands were no longer behind my back, but tensely poised under my chin with my left hand wrapped around the fingers of my right bionic hand clenched into a fist. I couldn't think. I was scared. I was no commander. I had seen what a commander was, someone like Kaira, who put her squad first and foremost, kept everyone safe, managed all of the risks. I couldn't do that.

Jack didn't seemed worried in the least as he drew a bottle of dark bronze liquor and two glasses. He didn't say a word as he uncorked the bottle and poured both glasses half-full, returned the cork and set the bottle down, then picked up the two glasses and handed one to me. He smiled warmly. "Forrest, this is an undertaking. But I believe you are ready."

I nodded slowly and took a whiff of the drink. Strong, smoky stuff. Scotch from earth, maybe? I wasn't sure, but it burnt my nostrils nonetheless. "Who else?" I began, watching Jack intently. "Last time it was someone else. Kaira and I had talked about whose responsibility it was then, too. She was the commander. Insisted it was hers. I was just a grunt, just someone who could look after their own crap and follow orders. Maybe now it's my time. Maybe I'm the one who's going to be doing the looking out."

The old man smiled and raised his glass. "There are no 'maybes' here, only absolutes. I have no doubts that you'll be able to exceed."

I raised my glass as well. Then I took a small sip, almost coughing over the smoky, burning flavor. It took my mind of new responsibilities. That only lasted for a second. "Alright. Where do I start? When? And… how?"

"You've already started by assembling your squad. I've arranged a ship, the TIER Ortona, a redesigned Alliance frigate. It is ready to go, fueled up and stocked with everything you could need to begin a war. Even a Salarian pilot." Jack explained as he stared into his drink. "Our recon units have a few leads scoped out. You can investigate them at your bidding."

I shook my head in disbelief. Took another sip of my drink. "Shit. I know a few simple words won't cover half of this, but… thank you, Jack."

"We each have our roles, my boy." He chuckled and shook his head. "I can provide the intel and equipment, but my field days are long since over."

"Me, on the other hand…" I pointed out. I could cover the field work without issue. Alright, so maybe a few issues. But I could still do it.

"We share a common enemy, and many of the same motives, you and I. Setting the Contractor to rest is only half of it. We still have a galaxy to rebuild."

xxxx

"Get those last crates of x-29 power modulators on board too!" Samantha yelled from across the hold, mostly directing the loading process as we readied the Ortona, making extra sure that she got all of her parts on board.

Meanwhile, Jakur was loading a few crates of gun parts by himself.

Jack and I were just making our way across the hold. I was still in my assassin armor. It was comfortable Plus I was loaded down with weapons, safe.

A few TIER troopers and dockhands were running around and putting the finishing touches on the frigate. We would be leaving soon. Going out to get a taste of new Contractor blood, rushing into a galaxy that I barely knew to fight an enemy I knew too well with a squad I barely knew. Interesting.

Jack and I were making our way past a pile of crates stacked well over our heads. Well, it was to my right. I didn't pay it much attention until the topmost crate took to rustling and a few seconds later, went tumbling down the pile. I was already thinking about deploying my tech blades before a Vorcha leapt onto the top crate and then crouched there, armed up similar to me with TIER assassin armor and sheathed tech blades as he glared down at me for several seconds.

I hadn't deployed my blades. I waited for a second, waiting for him to attack.

But he didn't, instead the black-armored Vorcha with red eyes and numerous scars on his face only hissed: "Who is this Earth-blood? He smells of violence and slashed veins!"

"Forrest," Jack began, seeming rather unthreatened, "this is Torr, another assassin. Torr, the Earth-blood is Forrest Jackson."

"So I see." Torr replied, then hopped down off of the crates so that we were on the same level. "Is he the one heading the charge on the Contractor?"

"That's right." I nodded. "I'm leading a squad. Starting with recon, trying to track down this bastard. Again."

"Hate…" Torr muttered, dropping his glare and rattling his head as if trying to get something out. His arms twitched a little. "The warpath is set. Bodies will fall. Stars will turn bitter with blood. I can see it all now, so clear as it dances in her eyes, the fire, the flame, the blade, the five of fives!"

I glanced at Jack as if to ask permission. He nodded. I folded my arms, regarding the seemingly volatile yet intelligent Vorcha skeptically still, but noted, "If you want to spill blood, there's plenty of Contractors out there. We could use another set of blades."

He stared at me for several seconds, processing maybe. "I only know the need for violence. That's why I'm here, above the squabble of my brethren. The bloodshed in your veins is the only reason I need to follow you to war."

I nodded, still not sure what to think. He seemed much more composed then normal Vorcha. Also, I'd never talked to a Vorcha before, so perhaps my judgment was skewed. I didn't have anything, rather anyone, to compare him to.

So there we were, a cybernetic-laden ex-commando, a wheelchair-bound ex-alliance commander, and a bloodthirsty Vorcha. Quite the crew we were getting to be. Jack looked over at the Vorcha and teased, "I'd tell you to get ready Torr, but I know you have everything you need on you now."

"All I need is a dark corner." The Vorcha replied, staring straight ahead. "A subdeck."

I figured we could do that. But then again, I hadn't seen the Ortona yet. I didn't know what I was getting myself into.

A Turian dock worker approached, saluting Trinder before reporting. "Sir. The Ortona is fueled and loaded with torpedoes. Food and ammo stocks are full. We can release the mag clamps on your command."

"Thank you, Tyjen. Stand by for orders from commander Jackson."

"Yes sir!" Tyjen replied, saluting both of us.

_Commander Jackson._ I shook my head and fought down conflicting emotions. On one hand doubt, fear. On the other pride, fulfillment. Whatever I felt, I knew things wouldn't be the same as before. That much was certain.

"Well my boy, let's not waste any more time." Jack continued and started wheeling forward at a pace that I had trouble keeping up with at a walk. Torr trotted to keep up.

We reached the airlock, the main doors already open. There was no need for decontamination in the TIER hangers, evidently. Jack wheeled through the doorway first, followed by me and then the Vorcha. The old man stopped on the bridge for a moment, then turned left and headed up towards the cockpit. It wasn't far. The Ortona was a small frigate, and soon we were all in the back of the cockpit. Not much room. Enough for three seats and consoles, barely room to stand.

A Salarian rose from the pilots seat, dressed in a sharp classy-looking uniform, saluted us and addressed Jack and I. "Trinder, commander Jackson. The Ortona is ready to fly. All systems are go, even if we are waiting on the crew to finish loading gear."

"Excellent. Thank you for the report." Jack nodded, then turned to me. "Forrest, this is captain Jarka Kuuis. The best captain in the TIER fleet."

"Please, no need for flattery. I simply do my job and I do the best I can with the least given time. That's all." Jarka shook his head.

"Well." I began, glancing past him momentarily to the limitless expanse of stars behind the Salarian. "Glad to have you at the helm. Sounds like you've got a good handle on things."

He nodded once, quiet and reserved.

"The Ortona is our smallest, combat-capable frigate." Jack explained, leaning forward on one elbow. "Apart from you, Jarka, Sam, Jakur, and Torr, it's empty. While you're aboard the ship, each of you will have to take on additional responsibilities."

"We found that minimizing crew reduces weight, stress, and impact on ship environmental controls." Jarka added rapidly, clasping his hands behind his back as he stood.

"Precisely." Jack agreed.

"Trinder, Jackson." Jakur suddenly interrupted, saluting as he entered and approached on the bridge. "Weapon supplies are loaded up. I'm ready for departure."

Not a second later, Samantha entered the airlock as well, saluting with much less finesse or care. "The rest of our stuff is loaded up, too. I dunno how long we're gonna be out for, but I've got enough material to keep us going for a long time."

"Good work. Both of you." I nodded.

"Well then… there's no need for any more sentimental ado. I shall let you return to what you do best, Forrest. I've forwarded every last bit of intel you could need, as well as a few contacts that may come in handy. It's not much, but you'll also have access to some funding for basic costs."

"Alright. Thank you sir." I shook the old man's hand, then saluted. Along the bridge, Torr, Jakur, and Sam lined up against the wall as Jack wheeled past.

"Stay safe and good hunting." Jack nodded once more, looking each of us in the eyes before making his way to the airlock and wheeling out. The door slid close behind him.

For a moment, we just stood there in silence. I shook my head and turned back to Jarka. "So, where should we start?"

"Well, One of our most promising leads comes from Zavalon. I would suggest starting there."

_Zavalon_. I remembered that place. A garden world of sorts. Toxic, both the people that worked there and the vegetation around. "Alright, set a course there I guess."

"Transit time will be approximately twenty-five hours." The Salarian responded, looking up as if calling the number from memory.

"Thanks for the heads up." I nodded, then turned to the rest of the ground team, the Human, the Salarian and the Vorcha. "Alrighty then. Let's get settled in."

They were still lined up against the wall, seeming tense as we stood there. For several seconds, I couldn't figure out why.

Then I remembered I was the commander here. "At ease. This is home now."

The three of them all softened. Except for Torr, who still seemed wired, and he spoke. "Commander, I hope the offer for the subdeck still stands."

I reluctantly agreed. I sort of wanted the subdeck for myself. Old habits died hard. "Alright, fine. Make yourself at home there." I turned to the other two. "I assume we've got an armory and an engineering bay here?"

"Yeah, they're both on the second deck. Right in front of the cargo hold and behind the subdeck." Jakur replied, then added, "Er, sir."

"Let's just go on a first-name basis here on the ship." I shook my head with a bit of dull amusement. "I guess the crew quarters and mess are on the second deck?"

"Yeah. Just back from combat intel center dealio." Sam replied. She seemed to be making herself at home, leaning back against the wall with her legs crossed and arms folded.

"Well then…" I cracked my knuckles. "Let's get this show on the road."

xxxx


	4. Strike the Match

_Chapter III – Strike the Match_

xxxx

I stood over the holoprojector, looking over a hanging list of intel, sources, dossiers, and really everything else you'd need on a list.

Zavalon, as was no surprise to me, was still a shit-show. Lawless and run by Terminus bandits and crooked guards. Worse than before, actually. I had read into some of the incidences and issues surrounding the place, and even without the Contractor it needed some serious spring cleaning. More than one faction of the Blood Thorns were running wild, Fireburners had taken over a few ports, and the only working ports had been reduced to sketchy shipping ports that dealt mostly with slaves or stolen goods that would be sold into the Terminus. The Reaper War had shut down tourism entirely, leaving the city centers I envisioned empty and in shambles. A few Vorcha had sprung up in places.

Back on the Ortona. I was on edge. I hadn't slept since I found out I had acquired the responsibility of commander; I didn't know what else to do, so I fell back on what I had seen Kaira do, although I didn't pace as much and I doubted I was paying as much attention to detail as she could, but I tried, looking over the list and looking for something new.

The Contractor had made a move on Zavalon. According to our various intel, he was working with the Fireburners in a few ports, then seemingly wanting to work with the 'Thorns to take over yet another port. That was sort of where we stepped in. Cut them off before they mobilized any more and start finding their weaknesses. Start turning the tide. Well, that was the plan. Hopefully things went that way, but I had my reservations.

The Contractor. According to TIER intel, he had made a move on the galaxy already, taking advantage of the weakened homeworlds to lay waste to several colonies and space stations. Same as before, abduct people and fall back out of reach. Seemed like this time around he wasn't even bothered to be stealthy, working right out in the open, employing pirates and other merc groups and thrashing anyone who stood in his way, then use said employees as cannon fodder when the homeworlds got wind of trouble. Council space barely heard a peep of his name.

Council space. That was sort of joke, judging by the limited time I could bear to spend reading up on politics. The Batarians and Krogan had been nearly wiped out in the War and there was little mention of either on the extranet. The Turians and Salarians were at each other's throats over the bits of tech recovered from destroyed Reapers, with the Turians still bitter about a string of traitors and indoctrinated agents and figuring it would be best to progress without the tainted tech. The Salarians believed that it was an opportunity to progress and better understand advanced AI. The Asari were right in the middle, trying to keep the situation from getting out of hand, while the Humans were still insistent on keeping a galactic fleet ready in case a second onslaught arrived. But most all of that was squabble, curled lips and heated glares. The four races were actually working together to reclaim homeworlds, sharing some resources, intel, and labor. Seemed like Earth took the worst of it – the Reapers wiped most people out, and those left became bandits on a forsaken world with a cloud of smoke that hung for a year. There were terraforming missions, galactic meetings, great migrations of people between stations and colonies, using overloaded ships to go from an overcrowded camp to an undersupplied outpost.

Two years had passed since the last Reaper conflict. Things were barely starting to look hopeful. And then the Contractor was back.

I paused for a moment, looking away from the list and back down the ship. The Ortona was a simple frigate, repurposed from a basic Alliance assault frigate. Two long wings, the occupied section right in the middle. The combat center, where I was standing and leaning on a table, was right at the base of the bridge, and not five meters behind me there was a dividing wall, then on the other side there was the mess hall. It was short, but it covered the entire width of the ship, then past that there was the crew quarters on the portside. There was a narrow stairway next to that, leading into the lower deck, dropping into the space between the armory and the cargo bay.

I glanced back to the intel I had on the new Contractor forces. There was one squad that stood out as a threat. A human and two Asari. Jason Mender, the human, was some Omega-bred brawler with a love of violence. He was a fucking tank, too. The bio said he was seven feet tall and 150 kilos and carried an M-76 Revenant left from the War. A heavy trooper by all means. Then the two Asari. They looked like twins. Identical. Light blue skin, long fringes; one had white facepaint, the other had violet. The same pattern. Tayra and Viola T'Vintha. They had grown up on Illium, then moved to Omega until they were kicked off and returned to the Traverse. Rose through the ranks of gangs, got into power by running a prostitution ring that reached clear to the fucking Citadel. Well, Tayra still did a little bit of 'field work,' but between the two there was enough brains, brawn and universal appeal. That was before they emerged in the Contractor army. Both were formidable adepts, the dossier said, but didn't go into more detail.

So the squad of the Human heavy and the Asari adepts were on the very pinnacle of the Contractor assault. They started all the fires, they began all the wars, they watched all the doors. They were an unstoppable unit. The two Asari supporting each other and buffing the tank. They could devastate about anything. As much as I wanted to take them on, I knew our – rather, my – squad wasn't up to the task. I couldn't call on Azarith for backup this time around. We would have to work as a team.

I flinched and looked towards the doorway from the mess sprang open. Still on edge. It was only one of my own crew. Samantha.

She looked like she had just woken up. Instead of a uniform, she just wore a tank-top and cargo pants. Her hair, usually back in a tight bun, was strewn about on her shoulders, completely unkempt. I noticed, being as her arms were bare, that her right shoulder bore a tattoo. The Citadel logo, five trapezoids surrounding small circle, surrounded by a flaring orange and red flame that rose from her shoulder clear under her tank-top. I figured well enough what it symbolized. She was hardly paying any mind, yawning and stretching her arms as she stumbled into the intel center, then finally looking around and seeing me. "Damn, commander. You ever sleep?"

"Just Forrest works." I shook my head and looking down with some embarrassment. "And no, I don't."

"Huh." She shrugged, not seeming to care that much. "Whatever. It's early still. Whatcha looking at?"

"The top Contractor squad that we'll be going up against."

"Oh, Mender and the T'Vintha sisters?" Sam squinted as she wandered forward and joined me in looking over their bios and combat footage. "I think Jack was the one who told us about them. Told us to watch out. Avoid taking them on without gunship support."

"That right?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "Real mean bunch. I'd kinda like to take Mender on. I bet my doomsday armor could take him out."

"I was gonna ask you about that…" I began.

"Well, what about it?" Sam shot right back, not bothered to look over at me.

"How did it get that name… doomsday armor?"

"Shit." The operator laughed. "It started out as mechanized defensive heavy infantry assault armor. That's a mouthful right there. Anyway, people started calling it Mecha armor. I thought that was kind of boring, so I thought, hey? You know what this thing would be perfect for?"

"Doomsday?"

"You got it. The name took off, too."

"Huh."

She was silent for several seconds. "I happen to have a whole cruiser of questions for you, too."

"Well…" I began, wiping my face down and realizing that the lack of sleep was starting to drag me down. "Wanna get some coffee and some grub? I'll answer what I can."

"Ok. That works." She shrugged.

I stepped away from the holo, shutting it down and then starting towards the mess hall with Sam to my right. I remembered we would have to make our own food here. We entered the mess hall, a simple facility, with two tables and enough room for twelve people in total, but we passed the tables and went right to the open kitchen and I began to search for coffee. "So what do you want to know?"

"Well, Jack couldn't have been much more vague about you. Said you were a recovered relic or something, then that we were supposed to follow you into hell."

I stifled a chuckle as I poured hot water into two glasses of instant coffee, hoping that it would taste better than it did two centuries before. "Can't say I have a much better understanding of what's going on. But I'll see what we can do."

Sam had dug out some protein bars, offering me one in exchange for her cup of coffee. We sat down at one of the tables, sitting opposite each other, and taking a sip of coffee, nearly choking on the bitter, synthetic taste, continued. "It started in 2012. No, 2011. A different Contractor was taking over. Tried to have me killed back on Earth."

"Mmm!" Sam interrupted, quickly swallowing her food before speaking. "2011? The relay wasn't found until 2157."

"Found the second time, maybe." I grumbled. "It was open in 2009. An Asari commando unit ended up yanking me right out from under the Contractor's nose. So I ran with them." I shook my head and reminisced. "The five-seventeenth commando unit. Ended up being three Asari and me."

"I don't get it." Sam muttered. "Why you? Out of everyone on earth?"

"Why me?" I repeated, snorted, and tried to take another sip of coffee. "Hell, it could have been anyone. Didn't matter who I was. Only mattered what."

"And what was that?"

I left my coffee alone and laid both of my arms out on the table to make note of the bionic arm. "You know about the Reapers, right? How they came in and cleansed organic life every so often?"

"Duh." She rolled her eyes. "After the War, everyone and their cat knows about the Reapers."

"Right. Sorry. I'm still used to people being in denial. Anyhow, they kept guards on watch over each cycle. One Reaper, Azarith, seemed to have a little bit of hope in this cycle and wanted some way to stop the Contractor from tearing it all to hell. He developed several humans with nanotechnology that remained dormant. Eight of us, I think there were."

"The other seven?" Sam asked.

"Remained dormant." I replied bluntly and made no mention of those the Contractor had hunted down. "I was the one that activated. Azarith programmed me to be his avatar, a sentinel for humankind and a vanguard against the Contractor."

Sam was watching me with narrow eyes, really glaring at me. Maybe she thought I was trying to take her for a fool. "So you're a Reaper-made cyborg?"

"Effectively, yeah. Organic flesh and bones, synthetic nervous structure. Except for the one arm."

"Huh." She shook her head and let her eyes soften. Hard to tell if she actually believed me, but it seemed like she wasn't going to fuss about it anymore. "In the War, there were a splinter group of Reapers that called themselves Azarith's guardians or something. Truth is, if it weren't for them, we'd be boned right now."

I nodded slowly, hesitant. Hoped that Sam knew I was being as truthful as I could be. "Well, maybe that's all that's left. The rest of the horde killed Azarith as soon as they could."

"The Guardians and you, apparently." Sam shook her head with dull amusement. "So, how long did you run with the commandos?"

"Nearly two years." I stared at my coffee, still half a mug. Half empty.

"Damn. Most guys I know would just jump on an opportunity like that."

"Maybe I would have been more eager if I wasn't running for my life and getting shot and stabbed all the time." I shook my head. "Maybe if I hadn't left without saying 'goodbye,' abandoned them to help Azarith."

"Sure, but how much choice do you have when a Reaper is pulling your strings?"

"It doesn't matter, Sam. I still did it. I'm still responsible." I replied, trying to keep my voice from a growl.

"Well, aren't they still around?"

"I don't know. I've tried to track them down, but all the records of the 517th are gone. Best case scenario, they went their own ways. Worst case…"

"That was a long time ago, Forrest. I doubt they feel as strongly about the whole deal as you do." Sam shrugged, flipping her hair back and attempting to tie it up in some shape or fashion.

"I couldn't hold it against them if they did. We were all close."

"Just how close were ya now?" Sam asked, raising her eyebrow, the form of a Cheshire grin on the corner of her mouth.

"Like family." I replied. "Except for one. We were especially close."

"Ah."

"So yeah. That was a while ago. New faces, but the same fucking problems." I shook my head. "Funny how that works."

xxxx

"Commander." Jakur saluted as I entered the armory, pausing what he was doing.

"At ease." I shook my head and glanced around, noting that Jakur had made himself right at home with guns and parts strewn about, boxes full of parts and various other stuff. It was already a mess. I couldn't tell what he was working on. "I'm just trying to get a feel for the ship and crew."

"Ah, right…" he shook his head and leaned back against a workbench. "Well, not a whole lot to report on here. Glad to be out, I guess."

I nodded. "You a spacer?"

"Not originally. I grew up on Zavalon. I was adopted by a human couple. Considered them my parents and tried to fit in with them. I kinda joined the Alliance at 17, then got flunked out when I tried to go past basic. So it goes, right? Dream big just to be turned down by some cute recruiter."

"Can't say I had that problem." I shook my head and chuckled. "I was 17 when I unofficially became a commando."

"Commando… like same type work as Asari commandos?"

"Yeah. I served on an Asari squad."

"Damn. I thought the old man was off his rocker when he told me about you. But you're the real deal, already combat-proven. And commandos? Hot _damn_."

"Maybe. I learned to adapt, but I'm not sure how much that counts for now." I shook my head, paused, then continued. "Anyway, it's not as great as it sounds. Lots of injuries and close calls."

"Those are the best kind of stories." Jakur grinned as he sat on the edge of a table.

"Well, maybe we'll have to have story time one day." I retorted. "So, what was Zavalon like?"

"It was pretty awesome, dude." Jakur beamed. "My parents were total hippies."

I laughed quietly, folding my arms and leaning against a workbench. "I'm surprised that term still exists."

"Pretty sure they're the only ones who still use it." The sniper snorted in good nature. "Anyway, I took about as much of the peace and love trip as I could take, then realized I needed to get out and try something new."

"So you tried to join the Alliance." I noted, folding my arms and watching Jakur as he told his tale.

"Yeah. That was my plan. Since my folks were registered in Alliance databases, I was able to sneak right in. Even got through basic. It worked right up until advanced, when the recruiter started peppering me with questions. She wasn't much older than me, and a real looker. I got nervous and ended up messing my birth date up. So…"

I stifled a chuckle at his antics and failing plan. I didn't want to actually laugh, even at the now-toughened soldier. That was probably a bad time. "Didn't even know they'd accept Batarian recruits."

"Yeah, they don't really. Not for legit work. But since all my paperwork was done through Alliance systems, they might have considered it."

"Damn. So from there you went to Illium?"

"Yeah. They didn't have any issues hiring me on, and pretty soon I got to be a good shot." He paused and clarified. "At least with a rifle."

"Well, that got you on with TIER. So I'd say so." I shook my head and picked up a nearby pistol that was setting on the table.

"So, uh… Did you have family back on Earth?"

I looked at the pistol for a few seconds more as I thought about the query. "Yeah. Left both my parents there before the first Contractor war."

"Ever find out what happened to them?"

"Nope. Someone closed the relay, I know that much. Last I heard they were fine."

"Nobody else that would want to know you're alive?" Jakur pressed.

"That was 190 years ago. So no." I shrugged, tried not to let it drag me down. "There's a better chance of my squad being alive, and I can't find a trace of them anywhere."

"Well damn. Sorry."

"Nothing we can do now." I replied bluntly. "What about your folks? Zavalon seems pretty rough now."

"Yeah… it's been hard on them. They moved to a new colony back in Alliance space. A little less hostile. And further from the fight. It's all groovy."

xxxx

Upon reaching the subdeck, I was glad I had opted for a bunk in the crew quarters. It was nothing like I had expected, nothing like the spacious confines of the Akina subdeck, with room to move about, much less stand. No, the Ortona subdeck was more like a narrow hole in the wall that lead back between the armory and engineering. I had to turn sideways to squeeze between the wall and the pipes. Two meters back, it opened up just enough for a few crates, a hammock hanging from one wall, and a Vorcha crouched on one crate.

"Jackson." Torr hissed. "What brings you to these narrow confines?"

"Well," I began, leaning back on the wall right next to the entrance. "I'm trying to figure out my squad. See what strengths we've got to work with. I didn't really get a chance to get your story before we rushed off."

"Bah." The Vorcha snarled. "I slice things with blades. My fifteen years dull in comparison to your violence."

I listened, looking around the small subdeck. Torr had made it very homey. Well, homey might not have been the right term. There were ornately carved bones hanging from the walls and ceiling, an ancient looking buzzaxe above his hammock.

"You still want to know?" He asked.

"Yeah."

"Fine. I took my first breaths on Korlus, amongst scavengers and crooks. And oh how I hated them. Five. By the time I was five, I could take it no longer. They tried to gang up on me, and all I left them was a bloody mess. I must have killed a hundred of my brothers before I made my way to the stars on a recovery freighter.

"Years of exiled wander passed, searching for violence that would redeem me. I found nothing, not even when I joined the Blood Pack. They treated me just like the rest, realizing too late that I would be their downfall. The blood consumed me. I killed my squad of Krogan and Varren and left. Then TIER offered a position. I thought it would be a chance to find worthy violence. Hopefully it still does."

I nodded and thought to myself. _Great. So I recruited a bloodthirsty, psychotic Vorcha_. "So what do you think of TIER so far?"

"It's vessel. I've found many battles because of it. And now you're leading us right and the Contractor. It couldn't get much better. But I hate the armor and organization." He replied bluntly. "There are few people I can stand. The only reason I'm here, willing to follow you, is because I sense the violence that shrouds your heart. For that I'll tolerate the other two."

"Fair enough. We'll see what we can do. There shouldn't be any shortage of a fight with the Contractor." I shook my head. "So you're designated as an Assassin too?"

"Bah. Blasted old human said that was what I needed to do. I don't like the armor or the swords." He paused, pointing at the buzzaxe on the wall. "See that axe? That's been with me since Korlus. It's shattered more skulls than I can count on the notches. And it was all I ever needed."

I looked at the ancient weapon for a few seconds. "Does it have element zero capacitators or what?"

"Yes. Pretty uses biotic enhancements. Metal alone wouldn't damage shields." Torr explained, hopping down from his crate and retrieving the axe from the wall, and swinging it a few times in the close confines, throwing it into the air, catching it right below the circular blade, then passing it to me.

I took the handle, noting the trigger mechanism that activated both the eezo capacitors and the saw blade that constituted the main cutting edge. It had some serious heft to it. I swung a few times. It was just metal, patched together and rather barbaric looking, handle leading up to the housing that held the jagged saw blade towards the front and formed a point at the back. It was all rusted, aged, specks of blood dried from battles past. I could almost feel the violence flowing through the axe. "And why don't you use this anymore?"

"Because Trinder said not to. That blades were more efficient."

I looked up from the axe to the Vorcha. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was no assassin. He seemed like he was on the very brink of lashing out. I flipped the buzzaxe around and handed it back. "Use it on the next mission if you want."

"I can?" Torr looked surprised, almost gleeful. "What about Trinder?"

"If he has a problem he can take it up with me. Use the weapons you're comfortable with."

"Hahaha! Yes, back to the grinding, slashing bloody mess that feeds the soul, nurses the wounds. Back to the days of five deaths." Torr cracked his neck. "Time to get blood on the axe again."

I nodded hesitantly. "So, is Torr short for anything?"

"That's my name." The Vorcha growled. "We don't need fancy long names like the rest of you. Violence speaks more than we do."

"Gotcha. I'll let you get back to… whatever you're doing. I hope you're ready for a fight when we reach Zavalon."

"Count on it." Torr grinned, showing off his razor-sharp teeth. "Give me a load of Contractors and I'll give you blood pudding."

I squeezed my way out of the subdeck, still in shock that I had recruited a psychotic Vorcha. More than anything, I wanted to see him in action.

xxxx

I wandered my way into the cargo hold, where most everything was kept ready for jumps. Since none of our equipment needed work, it was stored in the lockers along the starboard edge of the hold. I wandered over that way to see what else I had missed out on whilst leaving the TIER headquarters.

My locker had more than enough room for my armor and a few extra weapons. There was also the hood for the assassin armor, a dull black curved faceplate with no markings or contours. I liked it. There was something about the way it erased your identity that was rather comforting. I turned it over in my hands several times, noting the hard face plate that covered clear back over the top of the skull and the optic arrays arranged within the hood that allowed the world around to be replicated without eyeports and the soft micro-weave that made up the rest of the hood.

Then there were jump deployment packs that replaced parachutes. ODS, as I read about them in the ship intel, or Orbital Deployment System. Basically small mass field generators integrated into all TIER armors that reduced the user's weight to nearly zero just before impact. Evidently there was additional metal plating for longer drops where atmospheric burn would be an issue. I didn't hassle about those much longer, noting that I had another Shredder shotgun, a Vindicator battle rifle, and another set of tech blades in the locker. I closed it up and wandered to one of the pillars just in front of the living area door.

And so there I stood, alone as I surveyed the hold. We had an A-61 gunship, 5 hoverbikes, and a few big bombs. The hold was pretty tight.

I got to thinking. What had I lacked from the olden days of fighting on the 517th? It certainly wasn't courage. I had enough stupidity to make up for that. It wasn't the willingness to kill. Any hesitations there were long since gone. Granted, I didn't have biotics anymore. But I had tech blades.

Awareness.

That was what I had always lacked. I focused and could shred about anything in front of me, but how often did I rely on the rest of the 517th to cover my back? I wasn't so sure I would have that this time around.

I returned to my locked and dug out the assassin armor. Ran through a bunch of lists on my new omni-tool. Then I found what I didn't know I was looking for:

Cloaking protocols.

_If that's what I think it is…_ I thought, activating said protocols. After a split second of charging up, the armor disappeared from my grasp. Well, I was still holding it, but… I could see right through it. Invisibility. Maybe it wasn't too late to learn how to be stealthy.

There was another protocol that caught my eye: _tech runners_. Since I had learned absolutely nothing about activating unknown things, I figured I would see what it did. To my surprise, it wasn't that bad. Two electromagnetic suspension blades formed on the bottom of the armor boots, creating the equivalent of ice skates. If these tech runners worked on more surfaces than ice, that would be useful. Get back some of the mobility I lost with my biotics.

Before I gave myself another chance to put an eye out, I deactivated all the protocols on my armor and tucked it back into the locker. Then I turned and walked out in the center of the hold.

My attention went back to the hoverbikes. They bore some resemblance to those I had torn about on 190 years before, but the new models were far narrower and sleeker. It was all I could do not to fire it up and rip around the cargo hold as I threw a leg over one bike.

So I sat there and thought about the upcoming mission. I was going to have to figure a lot out. I wasn't so sure about my squad, either. Sam seemed alright, if not a bit uninvolved. Jakur was nervous all the time. Plus he was Batarian, and more than anything, I was uncomfortable trying to read him. He seemed like a decent enough dude.

And then Torr. I was grateful for every second that he didn't try to cut my head off. He seemed like a barely contained vial of rage, violence, muscle and blood. That was more than I could say of most Vorcha.

xxxx


	5. Light the Fire

**A/N: And we're back! Finally to combat, after what ended up being a pretty long prologue. Gotta lay that groundwork, though. Hopefully things will keep moving at a pretty good clip.**

**If you've got any comments, concerns, or general questions, feel free to leave a review or send a PM. You guys are the bestest, and it's great to hear from people every now and then. You know, to keep this story from becoming complete chaos. :P**

**ONWARDS!**

**xxxx**

_Chapter IV – Light the Fire_

xxxx

_I knock both of us back into a pillar, kicking up dust as I slam the Asari into the rock. She takes a swing and catches my head, driving me back in a stumbling daze._

_I don't mind the blood trickling down my cheeks, or my vision turned red from the blood in my eyes. I don't mind the combat knife protruding from my shoulder. I don't mind the trails of red and purple blood left over the pillars as our fight has gone on, smears across any flat surface as we're stuck in this violent stalemate._

_I know this a dream. But I can't seem to wake up. And so I'm stuck fighting the Asari._

_She hits me with another right hook, then a left jab to the gut. I stumble back and fall over a collapsed pillar, rolling back on to my feet and catching the attacking Asari as she tries to tackle me. I throw her over, crashing into another ruined pillar head-first. She lays still for several seconds, struggling to move much less get back into the fight._

_I draw my MR13 pistol and level it at her head. She barely turns, facing me and staring down the barrel. Out of the corner of my eyes I see him._

_The other me with the slicked back hair and the cybernetic eyes. _

"_Open your eyes, Forrest." He implores. "Pull the trigger. Don't turn back."_

_I hesitate. Then I turn the pistol around, placing the long barrel against my temple and staring at the other me. "My eyes are already open."_

_I pull the trigger._

In a flash, I was back awake, head jerking up from my arms. I had fallen asleep sitting on a hoverbike in the hold of the Ortona. I blinked several times and looked around, trying to differentiate dream from reality. I was far from happy to see the other me again, and I was even more concerned about the Asari. Her face had been blurry, like a detail my mind had failed to fill in as the dream rendered, but I knew that I knew her from somewhere and that she held some importance to me.

I didn't like it. Something about that dream got under my skin. Haunted me. I sat there for another few minutes and tried to figure out who she was. I didn't succeed.

I hoped that I wouldn't run into that Asari on Zavalon.

xxxx

"So commander, what's the plan?" Sam asked, wearing a black skin-suit as she began preparing her Doomsday armor for combat.

I was already armored up, sitting on a bench next to Torr. I replied with another question. "Do you have an ODS system that works with that armor?"

"Yeah, built in. Haven't used it a while, but hey." The heavy armor specialist shrugged. "Did you look into Doomsday armor at all?"

"Can't say I did, no. Anyway. We're dropping in from altitude. The Cor'Vebn docks are currently being run by the Blood Thorns, but the Contractor is moving in. We might be able to get in, convince the 'Thorns to work with us, rather than the Contractor, and have a foothold to attack ports that have already gone hostile." I thought aloud.

"Sounds prickly to me." Sam commented. "What's gonna make them work with us, though?"

"I'm not sure yet." I began, pausing as I watched Jakur fumbling with his sniper rifle and helmet, half distracted by Sam. He seemed unable to decide which to set down first, and instead stood there with one in each hand and unable to do anything. Torr was next to me, idly spinning the blade of his axe with his fingers, a Vindicator rifle slung over his shoulder with a leather strap. I shook my head. "I don't know what the Thorns are after, but I'm guessing that they don't have the full story on the Contractor. Or they don't have a choice."

"Ask questions first and slice later?" Torr seemed unhappy with the plan.

"If all goes well, yes." I looked my squad over. "Everyone comfortable with the jump?"

"Yeah. Done that a few times." Sam shrugged, poised in front of her waiting mecha armor for a moment, then stepping in and letting the mechanized suit fold in around her. In a matter of seconds, the skinny blonde girl disappeared, replaced by a Krogan-sized death machine.

"Yes sir." Jakur replied. He had finally gotten his kit squared away on his mid-weight TIER armor.

"Fine." Torr hissed, finally hanging his buzzaxe by his side. His eyes were wide, teeth grating. Didn't seem fine to me.

"Alright." I nodded once more and slipped my assassin hood on. It took a moment to boot up, and for the reproduced vision to focus. It increased my field of view by a few degrees, evidently. As I sealed it to the collar of my thin armor, the rest of the squad helmeted up. Hoods just like mine. Blank black face plates. Except for Sam, who had her Mecha armor. That was effectively the same thing. I activated my radio: "Jarka, take us in over the Cor'Vebn spaceport. Elevation 8,000 meters for jump deployment, then return to orbit and wait."

"_Understood, commander_." The Salarian replied over the radio. "_Currently at 10,000 meters and closing. Shall I prep the gunship for extraction?"_

"Copy that." I replied. "And keep an eye on airspace, too."

"_Understood. We are at 9,000 meters presently."_

"Let's move" I ordered, signaling to the back of the cargo bay. It was only a matter of meters before we were standing in front of the lowering ramp, air held out by a containment field. We would be able to pass through.

"_8000 meters!"_

"GO!" I yelled over the radio, then sprinted towards the edge of the ramp with my squad right behind.

The Ortona fell away behind me, and I realized I had jumped at a potentially hostile spaceport with a team of four specialists that had never fought as a squad before, armed with nothing more than a few small arms, without a plan and with only mass effect field charged boots to keep me from smearing into the ground.

Well, that was encouraging.

I pressed my arms against my sides, head towards the ground, trying to get to terminal velocity as fast as possible. Several seconds passed before I could make out the Cor'Vebn spaceport. It was a lone patch of light gray amidst a dark green jungle. The next nearest spaceport was kilometers away.

According to my heads-up display, we had already dropped to 3000 meters elevation. Still a ways to go with the wind blasting against my light armor.

2000 meters.

I was ready to go in, do what it took. I hoped that we weren't too late, that we would be able to swing the 'Thorns in our favor.

1000 meters.

"Brace for impact!" I ordered, waiting another second before spinning around so that I was falling feet-first towards the metal dock.

300 meters

Synthetic adrenaline was coursing my system as the deck approached and I was still at terminal velocity. The ODS seemed like a really, really bad idea. Then, automatically, the system fired up, a mass effect field reducing my weight, slowing me down, and mini air jets kept me level.

I was still booking. The deck was just meters away. I figured that was how I was going to die, right then and there, because I was a jackass who couldn't figure out how his own equipment worked.

My feet hit the deck. I expected them to shatter. No. I barely felt the impact because of the mass fields and I fell to my hands and knees, but only because I had braced too much. As I stared at the deck, grateful to be alive, I realized that I could have landed without even breaking the last of my fall with a hand. All things considered, that was impressive.

As I stood up, I realized I was already being greeted by several Asari mercenaries. Blood thorns, evidently. They wore medium armor, light grey except for the swath of purple paint running from their left shoulder and across their chest. Within that swath, there was a single outline of a thorn – a rose thorn, by the looks of it – the same color as the rest of their armor.

"You! Stop right there!" One ordered, three more training their weapons on me.

That was even before the rest of my squad hit the deck behind me. Another assassin, a sniper, and a heavy armor unit all in faceless black armor, falling into an immediate V formation. I signaled my team to stay quiet and I called out to the Thorns: "I'm just here to talk. There's no need to get bloody over the deal."

The mercs glanced amongst themselves for a moment, before the lead guard responded. "Fine. If you just want to talk, the rest of your squad can wait here. Step forward."

I glanced back to my three specialists and nodded. "Hold ground and let me know if trouble starts brewing."

"Understood." Sam boomed from her Mecha armor.

I turned back to the edgy Thorns and took a step forward slowly. I was still ready to leap into a fight, and evidently so were they. I took another step, calm and trying to be the least intimidating I could for wearing faceless black armor.

The lead guard turned to one of her underlings and ordered, "Take him in to the main office to see Tierna. Make sure he doesn't get out of your sight." She turned back to me. "We better not have any trouble. This is our port, and we're not about to hand it over."

"Right." I responded encouragingly. "Then we're on the same page."

The guard merc said nothing more as I passed by. She must have seen the weapons I carried. Maybe she was confident that they could take me out if need be, and maybe she was right. I was wary as I entered the narrow door behind the Asari guard. Inside the dock, they had a small frigate and three A-61 gunships. Lots of Blood Thorns milling about.

We said nothing as we walked along the edge of the bay and up a set of metal stairs. To our left, there was a landing and another narrow door. The guide Asari activated it and stepped through. I waited a moment as I heard her explain. "Tierna, my apologies for interrupting. We… had drop in visitors. One said he wished to speak to you."

"Please tell me they're not Contractor." This Tierna Asari responded.

"I don't believe they are." The guard replied.

"Alright. Send him in."

The guard turned to me, and signaled for me to enter the office. I did so hesitantly. There were three more mercs in the tight room, all burly-looking Asari. Then there was one more merc sitting behind the desk with datapads strewn out before her. Well, datapads and several explosive charges. She looked me over, skeptical and rather surprise. "So... You wanted to talk. Who are you and what do you want?"

"Sorry for the rushed introduction. I'm Commander Jackson from TIER."

She narrowed her eyes at me, likely because of TIER. Likely any word of our organization wasn't good by the time it reached the masses. "I think you came to the wrong dock. The Contractor has his sights set on taking this one over. If you're not going to leave at that, then have a seat."

I scowled as I sat down, hesitating before I deactivated my assassin hood and pulled it off. Minimal time vulnerable. Even without it, I still had kinetic plating.

"So, Jackson." Tierna began. "You seem like you're looking for a fight with the Contractor."

"You could say that. For now, we're just trying to turn back his expansion."

"Well, I admire your determination. None of us are thrilled with Contractors making themselves at home, but there's little we can do."

"Why's that?"

"Jackson…" Tierna began, fiddling with a short length of explosive cord, "The Contractor is far more powerful than we are, and far more determined. If we cross them, my entire operation here and the entire Blood Thorns organization will be turned to ash. Look at what happened to the Blood Pack when they refused to play nice with the Contractor."

"They were crushed out." I guessed, ashamed for not knowing something like that.

"Yeah. The Contractor didn't stop until the words 'Blood Pack' were only hushed whispers around the bar." Tierna paused. "So, what stake do you have in this dock?"

I had to think about that for a moment. "It's a nice dock you've got here, don't get me wrong, but my focus is on the Contractor. Beat him back and, track him down, and end this madness."

"You're absolutely insane." Tierna shook her head, gaze dropping to her hands. "Do you have any idea how immensely powerful he is?"

"I know what I'm going up against." I warned, leaning forward on one arm. "And I'd be crazy to do nothing. The Contractor was destroyed once before."

"2012." Tierna murmured, then glanced up to me. "I remember that. I fought on Omega. Kept his claws off of our station after the first attack. How do you know about that?"

"I was there. I saw him fall at my own hands." I replied with voice level.

"Wait…" Tierna started, glaring at me again, "You're the Human that Delina T'Kasan was running with, aren't you? Forrest Jackson? On the Spectre's squad?"

I grimaced upon hearing Delina's name. It brought up many unpleasant realities now. "Yeah. That was me."

"I thought the extranet was off its rocker for years. Until Humans came into contact with us in 2157. I wanted to meet you then, but figured it wouldn't happen." She shook her head. "That was nearly two centuries ago. How in the goddess's name are you still alive?"

"It's a long story that I'd rather not get into. Lots of bleeding and minor fits of death." I shook my head. "You know if Delina is still alive?"

"I don't know. You were on her squad most recently. Last I talked to her was in 1975." Tierna shook her head again. "I wish I could help you more. But right now, I can't. I'll tell you this, though: When the time comes, and you need an assault force to take the Contractor down… the Thorns will be there."

"Thank you. That's reassu -" I was cut off by my radio.

"_Commander, you have two, no, three Contractor ground transports headed your way! Approaching fast!"_ Jarka warned. My eye in the sky.

"Shit." I muttered, then relaying the info to Tierna. "We've got company."

She bowed her head. "I'm sorry, Forrest. Good luck. I hope you know what you're getting into."

I scowled and said nothing more as I stood up. I had nothing nice to say to her right then and I left the office without another word, masking up and going out the same way I had come in. I cracked my knuckles as I stepped back out on the open dock and exchanged glances with the few Thorn guards as they fell back to their shelter. Apparently Tierna had gotten the word out that things were gonna get hot.

I stepped back out onto the open dock. Empty except for my squad.

"Team…" I began, addressing the Batarian, Vorcha, and Human before me. "We'll have a fight on our hands just yet. Prepare for Contractors. Hold your ground and give 'em hell."

"Shoot to kill?" Jakur asked as he drew his Viper.

"No prisoners." I replied as I drew my MR13 and looked to the sky. The tall trees around the spaceport obstructed most of my vision, but already I could hear the shuttles incoming.

"Die die die!" Torr hissed and drew his rifle.

The Doomsday armor went through its final preparations, kinetic plating and guns charging and Sam braced herself.

So there we were, the four of us in a loose V formation with me in the front, Sam to my left, Torr to my right and Jakur to my far right, as we readied ourselves for incoming hellstorm.

My bionic fingers tightened around the grip of the heavy revolver. It was time to see what I was made of this time. Time to see if I could hold up as a commander.

The first shuttle came into sight above the treetops, flying low and heading right at us. I recognized the colors right away. Charcoal grey, a bright red right wing. The shuttle seemed to pay us no mind. It was coming in to land. I stared straight ahead as I ordered, "Get ready."

I heard weapons locking and loading behind me. Safeties coming off.

The shuttle swung sideways above the deck forty meters away, hatch opening and Contractor troops starting to bail out. I knew right away who they were, by the grey armor with the red arms. I didn't need to wait any longer. "Open fire!"

A Viper shaving tore into the first mercs head while he was still in the air, body slumping and hitting the floor unceremoniously. Several more made it to the ground alive and immediately regretted that decision. Torr was the first to barrage them, snarling and muttering as he let off burst after burst of Vindicator fire, tearing into their shields but not taking any down. I waited until I saw shields crack, then I aimed down the iron sights of the MR13 and let off a single shot. The revolver let out a deep metallic crack. A shaving tore into a goon's shoulder and send him spinning back to the ground.

Then Sam got her Doomsday armor in gear. The minigun spooled up, unleashing a barrage of shavings towards the Contractors. They were shredded almost instantly, remaining shields destroyed in milliseconds. Another merc slumped back as a Viper round perforated his skull.

"Sam, take out that shuttle!" I ordered, firing my revolver at the shuttle's engines for emphasis.

"Roger that!" Her armor boomed in response, minigun fire coming to a halt as she braced and charged the rail cannon on her right arm.

There was a blast as the cannon fired, a streak of blue tracing the accelerated metal sabot to its target. A moment later, the back of the shuttle exploded, engines devastated from the single shot, flames spewing. Without power, the shuttle plunged, veered towards the edge, and then crashed into the trees past the end of the dock.

_One down… two to go._ I thought to myself then turned back to my team for a moment. "Everyone good?"

"Keep 'em coming." Jakur replied with a nod.

Samantha seemed to snort. "The hell. I expected a challenge here."

"Blood bleed and fall, I can see the nerves fray and the calm collapse!" Torr snarled, hands clasped on his rifle, head ticking from time to time.

"Good." I nodded, cocking the revolver as another shuttle came in. It was much faster, much more deliberate as it pulled in over the dock, came to a sideways halt, began offloading Contractors.

We weren't just going up against troopers now. I recognized the metal blast shields carried by Defenders as they hit the deck and sprung up in a wall. Then there were Sentinels. Something new. Basic-looking troops buffed by yellow tech armor. There were even a few Assassins in the back of the lot. The shuttle fled before we could shoot it down.

Sam let off another rail cannon shot at one of the Defenders, knocked him down, shattered his shield and the biotic field generators reinforcing it, but did not hurt him. Unfortunately for him, he no longer had a shield to protect from sniper fire and promptly took a Viper round between the eyes.

I noticed that the new Contractor had incorporated Humans into his ranks, too. One of the Sentinels was a man in his thirties. Not that it really mattered – he was likely fitted with a self-destruct chip and indoctrinated all the same. He was still my target. Two revolver shots rang out. The first drove his tech armor, overloading it and sending off a blast that that staggered his allies. The second, pulled higher by the recoil of the first, drove through his neck and spine. He slumped.

There were the three assassins cloaking and trying to flank us. I had a general idea of where they were, and knew I had a few more seconds to spare. I fired at another sentinel who was targeting Torr; one shot and his tech armor was gone. Then Torr finished him off with a burst of rifle fire. Easy kill.

I glanced over at the Vorcha in TIER armor. He had moved up from the rest of us, kinetic plating lighting up as he took more and more damage from the wall of Defenders and their magnum pistols, until his white shield plating gave out with a burst and he fell to a knee. Rounds began to tear into his armor, into his flesh. I could hear each shot as it dug into him. Not a good sign. The realization started that I might have gotten him killed while I watched with my pistol raised.

Torr didn't go all the way down, somehow stopping as he crouched on one knee. Then he sprang back up, threw his rifle down and sent it skittering across the deck as he drew his buzzaxe and let out a roar: "Life for life, give me back my blood!"

With that, the Vorcha charged forward, no shields, no gun, only his axe. Another scream as he swung at the air, a Contractor assassin materializing in the air in front of him as the axe ripped through her cloak and armor, and mashed her out of the way with a spray of blood. Torr didn't even slow down. Right for one of the Defenders he went, hacking into the metal shield with his axe and staggering the Contractor specialist. The fumble was all Torr needed to get in, dart between two of their shields and slam one in the back with the blunt of his axe, then use the extra momentum to swing around the other way and drive the whirring blade into the back of the next defender.

With the tide turned and the Vorcha screaming nonsense, I set out to deal with the other assassins. Their cloaks weren't perfect; I could still see vague shimmers as they approached. I returned the MR13 to my hip, then popped my arms forward and sent the two tech swords from their sheaths on my forearms and into my hands. The two yellow katanas sprang to life and I darted towards the assassin's ethereal glimmer.

When I thought I was in range, I spun clear around and unleashed a power attack with my right blade, swinging wide and hard. The cloaked Contractor specialist managed to block the blow, but it revealed her position. She was caught with both of her blades holding my right-handed attack away, leaving me a clear path to stab her right below the ribs. She had kinetic shields.

Kinetic shields didn't stop tech blades.

Nor did armor. She slumped back, coughing and clutching the wound before falling to her knees and insisting that "Assassins never die!"

_Then you're shit at your job_, I thought as I swung my right blade into her neck. Nothing stopped the blow. She collapsed completely, no chance of coming back. Right then, I knew there was another Assassin nearby. I didn't know where she was, so I jumped backwards and dropped into a reverse roll. I got about halfway through before I found out where she was. Right above me, evidently, as she slammed a boot into chest and stopped my roll. Then she drove both of her metal swords into my chest.

I had kinetic plating. Kinetic plating stopped blades. While it dropped to 50% power, said plating held the blades away from my chest and gave me enough time to catch her legs with my own, break her attack and send her to the floor. I scrambled back up, driving both my swords forward. The other assassin was trapped between the floor and parrying my blades away. She succeeded once, but the lighter tech blades moved faster and I drove both right through her faceplate. Her arms twitched momentarily, then both of her katanas clattered to the ground.

With the enemy assassins dispatched, I turned back to see what was left of the fifteen-odd specialists that we had been facing. There wasn't much. Torr was standing amongst a pile of bodies, buzzaxe raised high the air. His armor was soaked in Contractor blood as he let out a gleeful, maniacal scream towards the sky. "It's time we razed the odds!"

I shook my head and looked to Sam and Jakur. Both seemed fairly calm, but Sam commented, voice modulated by her mecha armor, "These guys aren't so tough. Well-organized mercs – how's that for an oxymoron?"

"That's because they're not like most mercs." I pointed out, panting from the little bit of exertion. My forearms were cramping. I was still out of shape. Not good. "Last time, most were either indoctrinated or implanted with enough cybernetics to do the same thing."

Jakur just shook his head. I couldn't tell what he was thinking underneath the blank metal faceplate.

Torr seemed to have calmed down slightly, still swinging his axe at the air in front of him as he wandered towards us. At least he wasn't screaming any more.

"Well, we still got one more shuttle full of these bitches to deal with." Sam reminded us all. "Cybernetics or not, I don't like them. I saw more than one colony burned to the ground at their hands. I won't complain if we take out a few more."

I nodded. _She's seen nothing…_ I thought, then realizing my spine was tingling. I didn't know why, but I had a bad feeling rising in my gut. Something was bound to go wrong. I didn't like that one little bit. I looked towards the sky, suddenly remembering the dossiers on the infamous Contractor trio. Mender and the T'Vintha sisters. I hoped we didn't have to fight them just yet. My team was strong, sure, but we were nothing compared to the old 517th. We weren't that coordinated, and I was still weak. We would get destroyed by a well-organized unit like the trio. I activated my radio, called back to the Ortona. "Jarka, you better get that A-61 in the air. I got a feeling that we're gonna need air support."

"_Copy that, commander. ETA five minutes."_

I glanced around and took stock of our situation. The four of us stood mostly unharmed besides Torr, who seemed unfazed by his injuries as he wandered around and prodded at dead Contractors with his axe just to make sure they were dead. The two more sane members of the squad, Jakur and Sam, were resting and waiting. Jakur still had his Viper against his shoulder as he kept his eyes on the sky. Sam shifted about in her mecha armor, stretching her arms out and looking about. I assumed she was looking about. I couldn't tell what she was doing under that bulky, reinforced diver helmet.

I heard another shuttle incoming, just out of sight. It sounded like it was at a higher elevation then the last two. I adjusted my grip on the two tech blades active in my hands.

The shuttle came into sight. Visually, it was the same as the rest. But something felt different. Wrong.

My squad fell back into the initial formation, a wide V, no worse for wear apart from Torr who still brandished his buzzaxe and was covered in blood. Most of it wasn't his own.

The shuttle came to a sideways halt, door opening as it hovered several meters above the deck. It was then that my worst fears actualized.

The first thing to come out of the shuttle was a massive form wearing Contractor armor. A hulking mass of human flesh and rage with a wide, low-cut mohawk.

Mender.

He was even bigger in person, with his heavy armor reinforcing his frame to where his shoulders were about level with his temple and making his upper arms look about the same size as my waist. Oh, and he hit the deck with a thud, dropping to a knee and drawing an M-76 Revenant. He rose, cracking his neck and hefting the machine gun in his right hand as he stared us down.

Then there was the T'Vintha sisters. They dropped out of the shuttle at the same time, absorbing the fall with their biotics and backing up Mender. They were the showy types, too. They couldn't just wear light Contractor armor. No, both had armor modified to bare their abdomen, flaunt some cleavage, and free their right arm from any armor. They weren't afraid to show a little blue.

There was only one difference between the twin Asari adepts: Tayra had white facepaint, while Viola had purple markings. Other than that, they looked the same, held themselves the same, dressed the same.

Our two squads stared each other down for several seconds without making a move. Finally I called out. "I guess you didn't get the memo: this dock belongs to TIER now."

Mender laughed. Dark, deep laugher. "Little fish coming after the big shark." He cocked the M-76. "Time to crush!"

He didn't strike me as the most intelligent. Then again, that didn't matter too much if he could kill me right then and there. Over closed comms I ordered. "Sam, focus on taking out Mender. Torr, flank the adepts. Jakur, cover me and Torr!"

I ducked and rolled to the side as the first spray of Revenant fire came my way, glancing off of the deck where I had been. I knew I could only evade for so long.

Sam had tore into the Contractor heavy with minigun fire, barely hurting his shields before the two sisters began buffing him with biotic barriers. We weren't going to win head-on. With that in mind, I threw down a smoke grenade, using the bit of cover to cloak up and put the sneak on.

Mender was mostly focused on Sam and her Mecha armor. I wasn't worried about the Doomsday operator for the time being; her heavy kinetic plating could absorb a massive amount of damage. Nor was I worried about Torr, who had gone after Tayra with his axe only to be knocked back by a throw, then leapt back to his feet and did it all over again.

The trio didn't seem to notice me as I slipped around their flank, readying my blades. With his biotic protection, Mender wouldn't be an easy target. So I went after Viola. The Contractor Asari didn't notice I flanked her, getting in within striking range.

I activated my blades and lashed out, slicing with the right blade first, then spinning around and gaining momentum with my left. The first blow glanced off of her shoulder, barely slicing into exposed flesh. I saw a line of purple blood starting to bead before my second blade came around and drove into her forearm. It dug into the grey armor several centimeters before she deflected the blow.

In prime condition, I probably would have been able to drive the blade clear through her arm. But my muscles were still soft and spongy.

Viola immediately leapt back, narrowly avoiding my scissor cut with both blades. She launched a biotic throw at me, and the only way I could block it was with my blades, crossing them in front of my face and deflecting most of the biotic attack. It still knocked me back a step, leaving me off balance for but a moment. That was all she needed.

I realized I had been hit with a biotic field and couldn't move.

Stasis.

I tried to absorb the field, dispel it through my limbs like it was my own. And it was working…slowly. Then again, Viola had drawn a dagger and was starting towards me. I wouldn't have enough time to break loose. She was right in front of me, hand about on my faceplate and knife drawn back.

Suddenly, a fiery burst exploded against her barriers, not harming her directly but causing her to flinch. Jakur's Viper. I heard the crack. He had bought me the time I needed to bust free of the stasis trap. And so I did, biotic nova blasting out as I launched myself forward into another flurry of tech swords.

The Asari didn't expect me to be loose so soon, much less in such a violent manner. My first blow sent the knife flying from her hands. I wound up for the final stab.

"Jackson!" Sam shouted. "Watch out!"

I didn't bother looking before leaping into a backwards roll. No sooner than I was back on my feet, a massive tech sword – shaped like a claymore – was stuck into the deck where I had been. The damn blade had to be two meters long. And on the other end… Mender. Just as angry as ever as he pulled his blade back and swung at me again. I blocked with both blades, almost losing my footing from the impact. But I was able to ward off his single claymore with both of my katanas. Well, I was able to ward them off as much as I could with minimal strength, my katanas bracing against my kinetic plating.

By then, Viola had got her knife and was coming back after me. All around it was chaos. Jakur was still firing at Mender. Tayra had locked Sam in stasis and was attempting to deal with the axe-wielding, madness-fueled Vorcha. She was barely keeping him back too – one slip and she would have been missing limbs.

I was out of time. I had nowhere to go, so I vaulted and rolled over the flat of his blade, kicking him in the face along the way. He staggered back and I scrambled away, getting my feet back under me and blades between the two Contractors and myself.

Mender cracked his neck and came after me. I let him charge, wind up and try to drive his blade straight down through my head. I dodged at the last moment, the claymore driving into the deck. I scrambled up, planting one foot on the grip of his sword, boosting myself and leaping over his shoulder. Whilst midair, I spun around and sliced down his back with both blades.

The hulking tank of a human stumbled away. I had had hurt him something solid. I had also pissed him off. There wasn't even time to duck as he swung around and smacked me with the flat of his sword. I went flying, not letting go of my tech swords as I hit the deck and slid several meters away on my back and starting to scramble back onto my knees.

There was the familiar flash of red. Binary sprang up. An elevated process.

_/_

_Frame damaged sustained…_

…

_Isolating… complete._

…

_Deactivating pain receptors…_

…

_Ready._

_/_

I let out a roar as I sprang up and charged right at Mender. He held his ground as I approached; he drew back his claymore. I didn't bother planning a defensive. He swung. I dropped and slid right past him, under the swinging blade, before leaping back to my feet and slashing his back again.

That time, I was ready as he swung around with the powerful, horizontal attack. I blocked it with both of my blades, grunting from the impact as the flats of my katanas hit my shoulder, allowing me to brace against his attack. So we were stuck in a stalemate. He was stronger, but I had more leverage and collectively neither of us could win. Well, Viola took the opportunity to come at me with a knife again, perhaps hoping that something would be different this time around. Well, it was. I waited until she was within range and then struck, spinning around and delivering a roundhouse kick right to her chest and sending her crashing back while I deflected Mender's blade over my head and rolled back out of the way.

It so happened that we were squared off again. The four of my squad back in V formation, versus the Contractor trio. We were all worse for wear. The Contractors showed it worse, though, with the human and two Asari covering in scratches. Judging by the gouges in Tayra's armor, Torr had broken her defensive more than once. Viola had blood on both her shoulder and arm from my blades.

"Take the bait, fishy." Mender growled. "We'll be back. And next time you not get off so easy."

The three Contractors backed towards their waiting shuttle defensively and hurriedly. Especially the T'Vintha sisters. They were ready to get the hell out of dodge.

"Whatever. Get off of our dock." I growled, starting forward and starting to spin my blades threateningly. Torr let out a scream to make it extra clear that they weren't welcome there and the three Contractors sped up their exit. In a matter of seconds, their shuttle disappeared over the trees.

We had made it through. Maybe we hadn't won, but we held our ground. I deactivated both blades, holstered them, turned back to my squad. Shook my head as look them over. No major injuries that I could see. "Anyone take a serious blow?"

"Nothing that won't regenerate." Torr grumbled, hanging his buzzaxe by his side and brushing his arms off.

"Sure, I'm fine." Sam seemed to shrug under the mechanized armor. "Would have been nice if everyone pulled their weight, though – rather than running off and keeping their hands clean."

Well, she certainly wasn't referring to Torr or me. And Jakur… I shook my head. "That's kind of the point of having a sniper. Cover fire. Good work all around, too."

Sam grumbled, but didn't say anything else. Jakur didn't have anything to say either, shrugging sheepishly as he made his way over. They would get over it.

Something caught my ear and I perked up. A gunship. Our gunship. I made out the black gunship dropping in a rapid pace, bearing down on our location. We were in the clear. Well, at least I hoped so, but with the hanger doors opening and a line of Blood thorn mercs stepping out with Tierna at the helm, I wasn't sure. Then again, the four of us were pretty formidable, especially when there were Contractor bodies strewn about, one of our teammates painted with blood and the rest back in black.

Tierna didn't want trouble, the Asari signaling her mercs to stay back as she approached, warily watching the TIER gunship as it landed off to my right and out of the way. I stepped up too, meeting her about halfway. She stopped, looked me over. "I didn't think you could actually pull that off."

"Yeah. We were up against Mender and the T'Vintha twins."

"Then you're far tougher than you look. Good job staying alive, let alone fending them off. Our crew here is definitely appreciative."

"So... I take it you'll fly the TIER flag here?"

"If that's what it takes to keep the Contractor clicks away, yes. Otherwise this whole place is going up and taking out as many Contractors as possible." Tierna with the orange facepaint stood taller than before. Granted, she had been sitting last I saw her, but still. There was an explosive determination in her voice. "For you... I would be careful. The Contractor won't take nicely to having his top squad sent running."

"They best get used to it." I cracked my knuckles. "I doubt that's the last time we'll go toe-to-toe."

"I doubt it will be either." Tierna agreed, glancing over at the gunship. "I hope you know how to finish what you've started. I'm counting on you now. All of the Thorns are."

"Yeah. Might end up taking you up on the offer for Thorn support."

"I'll see to it that we're ready. Plus another thing..." She paused, digging through a pocket on the belt of her armor and drawing a small, silver locket and passing it to me. "This used to be Delina's. She left it when, well, when Evia died. I've been holding onto it, but I think it would mean more to you. Maybe she actually told you what happened."

I held the small locket hesitantly. It wasn't my memory, my heart on the line. I didn't even know where Delina was now, but I opened it anyway. There was a small, print picture of the arms specialist and another Asari. Judging by how close they were in the picture, I assumed it was Evia. Evia. I'd never seen a picture of the dark-skinned, brown-painted Asari that had meant so much to my former teammate. On the other half of the locket, there was a small script on old, tattered paper, written in a language that I did not understand or even recognize. Perhaps it served no other purpose than to carry pleasant memories. I snapped the locket shut and looked back to Tierna. "I'll see if I can't get it back to her."

"Good luck with that." Tierna nodded.

I glanced back to my squad, then to the Blood Thorn leader. "Well, we'd better not set in one place for too long. Let me know if the Contractor tries to make any moves here. Otherwise… we'll keep giving them reason to watch their back."

"Definitely. Good luck out there... and send word my way if you need something blown up."

I turned away, nodded at my squad, and signaled towards the gunship. The four of us fell into rough formation as we made our way across the dock, reaching the TIER A-61. I glanced back at the Contractor bodies strewn out across the dock.

We had survived our first fight.

I knew it was only the beginning.

xxxx


	6. Reporting Duty

**A/N: And we're back for yet another week! This story is progressing really well (at least as far as writing goes...). There will be some awesome chapters in the weeks to come, so stay tuned!**

**In the meantime, Chapter Five. ****Also, the return of a familiar name or two... **

**xxxx**

_Chapter V: Reporting Duty_

xxxx

"Jack." I reported with a salute, standing in front of the holo-projector in the combat center. The Ortona was too small for a dedicated comms room, so I was right out there for everyone to see and hear as I conversed with the yellow hologram of a smaller-than-life-sized Jack.

"_I take it your first mission was a success, my boy. You're still in one piece and don't seem too grim."_ Jack jostled.

I shook my head, hiding a small grin, and replied. "No sir. All things considered, it went alright. We were able to get the Blood Thorns on our side for now. Fought off a bunch of Contractors."

"_So I see. Any difficulties there?"_

"Sorta. We ran into Mender and the T'Vintha sisters."

"_Ah. I am sorry. I had hoped you would not need to face them until later… not on your very first mission as a commander."_

"Yeah. So would I." I shrugged and continued. "We got the better of them this time, but we're gonna have to do more if we want to take them out."

"_Of course."_ Jack replied. _"This is your squad's inaugural mission. I would be extremely surprised, and a bit disappointed, if you were already working at one hundred percent."_

"Maybe. I don't like it when several of us nearly get killed a couple times over." I shook my head, folded my arms, and regarded the holo rather coldly. "I still have a lot to learn in terms of getting everyone working together. And the ground crew I have… well, I dunno how well they're going to work together. Regardless of who's in charge."

The old man chuckled. _"Yes, well… you chose quite a unique crew. I am certain you will be able to direct them, even if it takes a little extra work."_

"Even Torr?" I asked, raising my eyebrow. "I've been blinded by rage before, but he's on an entirely different level."

"_I take it he went on a rampage, hmm?" _

"Yeah. He was just fine until his shields went down." I corrected myself. "Plating, whatever. Anyway, yeah. He just threw down his gun, took out his axe, starting screaming and went to town."

"_Oh dear… I almost warned you about letting him take his axe into battle for fear of that very thing happening."_

I shrugged. "I dunno. It was pretty damn impressive. We made light work of the Contractor troops."

"_Well… use your own discretion. You have been on the battlefield for long enough to make your own calls, Forrest."_

"Yeah, but I've never spent any time around a Vorcha."

"_Neither have I. And neither have any Contractor forces."_ Jack chortled. "_So, is there anything pressing on your mind?"_

"Not really, no. That's about all the important stuff. The Contractor will probably start watching us a lot closer now."

"_So he may."_ Jack began and then shook his head, shifted in his seat. _"I won't waste any more of your time before getting right into your next assignment. Our intel has found a freighter sitting dead in space, but no other information. If you're willing, I would like you to investigate."_

_Well great_. I thought to myself. I hated inactive ships floating in space. They always, and I meant always, signaled trouble. I knew this was going to be no different, yet I agreed anyway. "Alright. Just send me the coordinates and we'll check it out."

"_Excellent. Thank you, Forrest. I fear, as you may already, that it is the work of the Contractor. If you would come across anything that provides rationale, it may be useful for all of us."_

"Sure. Anything else I should know?"

"_I wish I could tell you more, but you will be on recon this time. Stay safe and watch over your squad."_

"Yes sir." I nodded once more out of respect. "Jack, I've got a question. This… Reaper War that everyone refers to. What exactly happened?"

Trinder was quiet for moment. _"Well, my boy. That's hardly something I can encompass in a few minutes. But I'll try to give you a brief overview. It began in 2183. A single Reaper, Sovereign, attacked the Citadel."_

I said nothing, but I felt myself tense. Azarith had predicted that all too well.

"_Things came to a head in 2187. The Reaper horde arrived in force, and wiped out most all of our defenses. Even with all the species united, it was a rather one-sided fight. We simply weren't prepared to fight on that scale. They tore through our front lines, destroyed most of our resources. We were able to dent their forces, but that was it._

"_Then everything changed. An entire section, perhaps a hundred and fifty Reapers, went rogue. Through audio transmissions, they identified themselves as 'Azarith's Guardians' to us, and even began giving us tactical advice. With the added firepower, we were able to push the invasion back. Most of the Guardians were destroyed, but so were the hostile Reapers. Never were we able to figure out why the Guardians came to our aid." _He paused. "_You seem troubled, my boy. What is on your mind?"_

"I don't suppose you've heard of a Commander Shepard fellow, huh?"

"Commander John Shepard?" Jack asked. "Of course I have. He's the one who lead the attack against Sovereign. Why are you so surprised?"

"I'm surprised," I began, fighting the urge to start pacing about, "Because I knew about all of that from before. Someone extrapolated every last detail to where they could practically predict the future."

"_And only the Reapers possess the processing power to accomplish such a thing."_

True, Azarith had created sentinels on Earth and tried to warn us of the Reaper horde without drawing attention. We hardly listened then. "I don't know what they were intended as, but we interpreted those predictions as stories. Myths." I shook my head, trying to remember details. "The Collectors?"

"_Their base was destroyed in 2185._"

"Cerberus?"

"_They first went rogue and then tried to join the Reapers."_

"Holy hell." I didn't believe it – and I certainly wasn't comfortable with the idea of a future held to calculations. Seemed too much like fate to me.

"_Perhaps, in all of these predictions, there was something we could use now. Something pertaining to the Contractor?"_ Jack asked.

"I don't think so. There was never a Contractor in the myths. And as far as I know, they just covered up until the Reaper onslaught." I snorted. "All that could have really helped out five years ago, eh?"

"That's hardly something to joke about. Still, there's nothing we can do now."

"No." I agreed. "So this Shepard… is he still alive?"

"_I'm afraid not. He died during the Reaper War."_

"Damn." I muttered, thinking to myself. _I sure would have liked to actually meet him._

"_I suppose we would be best to keep moving forward, and if anything comes back from your memory, do let me know."_

"Will do, sir." I saluted once more, watched as the projector closed down, then started to turn away. I was in no hurry; I had no place to be right away. We could only bide time until we came to the abandoned freighter. With my arms folded, I walked away from the console.

I didn't get that far before it sprang back to life with another projection, not of a face or person, but of a simple, audio line. Cracked, static and intentionally deceptive.

"_Zavalon will not go unnoticed."_

The Contractor. He even used the same, scratchy, metallic voice modulator as before. _"I run the Terminus border and nobody gets in my way. Either stay clear of my territory, or die by Mender's fists. Unlike anyone else... you do neither. That is a real problem._"

"Oh, we're going to have a real problem alright." I nearly chuckled. I found no humor in the situation, but the Contractor gave me focus. Something to direct my aggression towards. "Maybe you need a history lesson. 178 years ago, I stomped the original Contractor into the dust. I'm back now, and I'll do it all over if I have to."

There was a pause. _"…Jackson, you should have given up long before your second chance at life."_ He replied. _"I know my history. I know about you, about the 517__th__. I also know how the Contractor had a plan to keep the galaxy in balance. Oh, and he may have just succeeded if you didn't intervene."_

"His plan was just to destroy the galaxy before the Reapers could." I spat. "And now they're gone."

"_You staved his plan, preserved the galaxy for harvest rather than laying it to waste to protect those alive. That choice cost billions of lives in the Reaper War. Now look around, Jackson. This hell, this chaos that you created, must be undone by someone who is willing to make sacrifices for the greater good."_

"The greater good." I repeated, drawling over the three words, then shaking my head. "You're more certifiable then the last Contractor."

"_And you no longer have the 517__th__."_ He rebutted. _"Commander Jackson, is it now? I will only warn you once: turn away from your conquest, or pay the price through the blood of your allies. I will not fail like the Kavarshii did."_

He disconnected before I could say anything more. So I stood there, a new found anger burning through my veins and cybernetic networks, mulling over his last words. _Pay the price through the blood of your allies._ I snorted. I wouldn't be dissuaded so easily.

I decided against calling Jack again, telling him about the little encounter.

Standing in front of the holo projector for a minute, and taking several deep breaths, I thought. I knew well enough that the first Contractor was just trying to build up an empire. Maybe he wanted to stop the Reapers. Azarith seemed to think he did – that was why I was plucked up from the masses on Earth. Did Azarith mean to protect us, though? Seemed like it to me. Gave us a way to win while still keeping integrity.

The New Contractor, though. What was he planning to succeed at this time - if the first failed and the Reaper threat was gone?

I shook my head and tried to get back into the fight at hand. We had our next mission handed to us on a platter. I didn't like abandoned ships, though, and so I was happy enough pushing that to the back of my mind. In the meantime, I could occupy myself by harassing the rest of the crew. Well, there were only four other people on the frigate. It was quiet.

I was closest to Jarka, so I set off from the combat center and made my way up the narrow bridge and towards the cockpit.

The pilot was right where I expected him to be, in his seat with a whole barrage of holographic windows open. I couldn't tell what some of them were; others seemed to be monitoring ship inputs, and one was gossip from the Citadel.

"Jarka." I noted as I approached, trying to give him fair warning.

The Salarian jumped, instantly shutting several windows, including the Citadel gossip feed, then saluting me without missing a beat. "Commander. What can I do for you?"

I shrugged. "Just checking in. Making sure we're on course for the next mission."

"Yes sir. Trinder forwarded me the coordinates, and I plugged them in. We'll be in transit for a few days. We should have more than enough fuel, our weapons systems are standing by, our shields are ready to charge, and hull integrity is at 100%. Does that answer your question?"

"Yeah, actually. Thanks." I nodded, looking around the cockpit. It didn't look as state-of-the-art as our weapons or armor. I could see where paint had chipped away, or where hours of use had shined the metal on the edges of the chair and around the controls. "So… the Ortona. Where did it come from?"

"Y-TIER acquired it from the Alliance." Jarka explained. "It cost quite a few credits, but it works. Marginally."

"Marginally?" I asked, raising my eyebrow.

"Well, yes. It's nearly two decades old and doesn't even have an on-board AI. There was a VI, but it used up too many resources so I shut it off."

"Huh. How would it hold up in battle? Compared to what the Contractor will be running?"

The Salarian pilot grimaced as he sat sideways in the pilot's seat. "We would be at a disadvantage."

There wasn't much I could say. I knew that, sooner or later, it would come to a space fight. "Well, I guess I'll try to keep the fight on the ground."

"I would advise you do so. Anything more than an ambush would be extremely risky on our behalf."

"Got it." I noted, clasping my hands behind my back and looking around more. There was an M-6 pistol holstered under the console just to the right of the pilot. He was prepared. I liked that.

"Commander, do you mind if I ask you a question?" Jarka posed hesitantly.

"Fire away."

"Well, before getting my pilot's license, I spent several years studying circuit technology, specifically cybernetic implants. I noticed your right arm has been completely replaced, but I know that such replacements, should they be rendered fully operational, require substantial neural circuitry. To what extent do your cybernetics reach?"

"Well…" I snorted quietly, flexing my right, bionic hand. "That's not a short answer, and I don't understand it all myself. Remember Azarith's Guardians from the war?"

"I doubt anyone will forget them for centuries to come."

"Right. Well, Azarith, the original Reaper, was supposed to be watching and waiting to call in the horde to wipe us all out. Instead, he came to earth long before recorded first contact, and instilled nanotech systems into a few humans, let them lie dormant, then activated mine. Over time, they rebuilt my entire nervous structure." I explained, about running out of breath.

"Including cerebral regions?"

I nodded. "Everything. Programs took over in place of hormones, and so forth. Really, I'm more synthetic than biologic. I just need the fleshy bits to keep my systems going."

"Then that would explain… That explains why TIER was able to resuscitate you. Quite the process, as I understood."

"Yeah. That synthetic frame is the only reason I was able to lie dormant for two centuries."

Jarka's eyes widened. "It was _that_ long?"

I nodded slowly. "It was."

"So, what happened to Azarith? What did he intend for you to be?"

"I was supposed to be sentinel. His minion, a body that people could follow. You know, keep Earth safe. Back then, it was still the Contractor." I snarled in dull dislike of the persistent foe. "Anyway. Azarith got taken out by another Reaper. Apparently the horde wasn't very happy with what he was doing."

"I can imagine not." The Salarian seemed perplexed. "So, in an essence, Azarith was fixated on chaos, rather than the order demanded by the horde."

"Right."

"Interesting. Despite their intentions, I still find the Reapers fascinating. That AI could advance to that level could serve as a warning to some."

"You don't see it that way?"

"An AI, if properly designed, learns in a similar manner to you or I. They build a sense of morality from experience, and unlike us have few a-priori concepts."

"A-what now?" It was my turn to look perplexed.

"Preconceived notions. Instincts, I believe you humans have termed them in the past."

"Ah. And you're saying that an AI has to build that from the ground up."

"Precisely. AI are much more complicated than most people give them credit for. I did not fully appreciate the intricacies until I began studying them. Most people are comfortable harboring a fear and hostility towards cybernetics and especially anything brought from the Reapers. Take caution with who you divulge your construction to." Jarka stopped suddenly. "Apologies. I do have a tendency to get sidetracked. Anything else you'd like to know?"

"Anything else I should know?"

"Well… I'm currently in charge of all requisition orders within TIER. If there's anything we need, you should come see me."

"Right. That's good to know."

"Also, if you're able to find useful ship parts, like AI quantum boxes, while out on a mission, bring them to me and I can resell them for you. It's not much, but it's a bonus salary of sorts."

"Also good to know. Thanks, Jarka."

xxxx

I ventured towards the subdeck, rather unsure of what I was going to find since the last time I had seen Torr, he was soaked in various colors of blood and going on about the bane of the galaxy and how he hated the Contractor already. Several hours had passed since then, and seeing how the subdeck was relatively quiet, he must have calmed.

"Torr?" I checked as I squeezed between the pipes and into his cave. Best give him some warning.

"Jackson." He looked up, sitting on a crate with his legs folded underneath, his buzzaxe in one hand and a knife in the other. He seemed calm enough, even explaining what he was doing. "Adding marks for each kill."

"Ah." I nodded, leaning against the wall as he went back to scratching lines into his axe. "I didn't know you would snap like that."

He stopped for a moment, staring at the floor, then kept adding marks. "Never plan on it. I can only contain that rage for so long."

"Well, it worked. I just wasn't expecting it." I shrugged a little.

He grunted, then added. "We both know violence is an inescapable part of our characters, inextricable from what we are. I learned to embrace that long ago. Can you say the same?"

I met the Vorcha's glare as I thought about his question. I often thought to myself that I wasn't a heartless killer, but I had gone on rampages that dulled Torr's. He had a point. "Not entirely."

"You may not be as prone to violence as I am, but you still have yet to accept it." Torr shook his head, tossing the axe into the air, catching it, and then setting it down gently beside the crate he was perched on. "Only met a few humans like that. None of them were as sensible as you, though. The only ones I saw ended up as gutter rats. They weren't like you or me. They couldn't control. No divide between death and a beating heart and so it poured in until they could take no more."

"And you're saying we can?" I was skeptical. It didn't really seem like he was in control in our last fight.

"We can direct it." The Vorcha noted. "We can keep from tearing ourselves to shreds so long as we have a target to funnel aggression towards."

"The Contractor." I thought out loud, realizing that Torr had a valid point. It was something to focus on. I almost chuckled. _Never thought a Vorcha would get me thinking…_

"Har. I've never had something so specific, but you've given me just that. Purpose, you could almost call it." He slowly popped his neck. "It feels good."

"Right. But I was designed by a Reaper to be focused and violent. What gives for you?" I asked.

Torr was silent for several seconds, seemingly lost in his thoughts. "I might not have been built, but I've always been burdened with a rage that was maddening even amongst warrior Vorcha. Years and years that I did not have direction. It consumed me, ate away at my heart until I almost died from the sheer anger in my veins."

"Then what changed?"

"I was roaming around Korlus when I found a stranded shuttle. Civilians. They were being harangued by some Blood Pack mercs." Torr snarled then continued. "And I started slicing them up those mercs. The same axe I have now. Killed five Vorcha, six Varren and two Krogan. I just turned on the civs. I was about to drive my axe through their skulls, too. I remember. It was this little Batarian girl, not much older than I was at the time. Four. She was looking back at me with these terrified eyes. Neither of us say a word, but I knew right away that I had something to fight for. Direction. Fast fast more Blood Packers show up. Oh, and I'm ready for them."

Torr leapt up from his crate and began pacing, slicing at the air with his claws as he continued. "I tore through them. There was blood everywhere. Rage was running through my veins. I couldn't hear or think. Before I know it, I'm standing a pile of dead mercs. And I'm happy. Happy, happy. Satisfied, maybe. Having something to fight _for_… I knew from then on that my violence would need direction."

"And here you are." I chortled. "Fighting against the biggest paramilitary group the galaxy has ever seen, defending just about everyone."

"The stakes raise, but that's all that changes." Torr commented. "I'm glad I can follow you into battle."

xxxx

"Commander." Jakur saluted as I entered the armory.

"At ease." I shook my head. I appreciated the respect, but always having to say 'at ease' to the Batarian was getting on my nerves. Nothing against him, I just found the formality unnecessary. "So, any updates?"

"None to speak of at the moment." He replied, watching me intently and letting his work wait. I could tell he had been working when I came in. "None of our weapons mucked up on the last mission, but I ended up having to install a new shaver core in Torr's Vindicator. I don't think he's ever run maintenance on that rifle. Just on a quick evaluation, at least."

"I see." I nodded. "So, we're mostly stuck with traditional mass accelerator weapons. What else do we have now? Any prototypes?"

"Well, we've got a few PCRs." Jakur began. "Plasma Caster Rifle. Designed off of Geth tech, and made more dependable. That's about the only working prototype we have." He paused. "Well, there's the Bolt Thumper, as R&D calls it. But that still has a nasty backfire that zaps whoever fired."

"But it fires electricity?" I asked, knowing full well that it wasn't that simple.

"I think they're using low-speed capacitator slugs that hit a target with a blast of stored electricity. So basically, yeah. They shoot electricity." He shook his head, starting to relax a little. "Problem is, those slugs generally discharge before they leave the gun. Bad news for the tester."

"Sounds like, huh?" I shook my head, wondered what had happened to the Old Contractor VR666 design. I needed to find that.

"Yeah. Needless to say, they haven't sent any outside of the TIER station." Jakur shook his head and chuckled quietly, then fell silent.

"So." I began inquisitively. "How do you think the last mission went?"

"I think it went pretty well, all things considered." The soldier looked around, as if to make sure that we were alone. "I didn't expect Torr to go off the high board and into the deep end like that. I knew he was a bit…"

"Psycho?" I completed.

"Yeah. I should have guessed, too. I mean, why else would you carry a dandy axe into battle?" Jakur shook his head again. "Gotta say I was a little worried, seeing him slashing up those Contractors. We couldn't have looked much different."

"So long as he can stay focused on them, and not come after us, we should be fine." I pointed out.

"No doubt. And now that I know what he's gonna pull, I won't worry about it quite so much."

I thought back to the fight. "You're a pretty damn good shot, too."

"Alliance recruiters said it was cuz I had an extra set of eyes." Jakur snorted with dull amusement.

"Whatever works. So, any other pointers on the last mission?"

The soldier was silent for a moment. "I'm not really sure. I'd like to have a better plan for when we run into Mender again. Dude. I don't like playing it that close. I mean, you almost got stabbed in the face, Torr nearly got thrown off the docks several times, and Sam spent most of the time in stasis. I get the tingles she didn't really like that."

"Noted." I chuckled dryly. I was all too comfortable playing it close, getting the dagger close to my chest. "We'll see what we can do, and I'm open to ideas."

"Sure, dude. I'll look through some of my old notes and see if there's anything we could put in groove."

xxxx

Engineering was nothing short of a disaster. I even thought twice before I walked into the room full of scattered parts, tech, and dissembled Mecha armor. I was sure that it had been clean not five days before.

That was before Sam made herself at home.

The doomsday armor operator was kicked back wearing black pants a few sizes too big and a black tank-top, sitting on a workbench and leaning back against a support beam as she glanced over from her omni-tool and gave me a dull nod of acknowledgement. "Hey."

"Hey." I replied, looking around once more before I asked, "So, ah, what are you working on right now?"

"Well…" Sam drawled, closed her omni-tool and sat up slightly straighter. "I was working on my armor, but then I got bored. So I started inventory on everything we have here and sort it, but I didn't get very far."

_Evidently_. I thought to myself. She had succeeded at disassembling her armor and breaking open every box in Engineering, but that was about it. "Having a little bit of trouble getting motivating?"

"Yeah, I guess." She shrugged. "Well, that and I need a new XTr2034 charge distributor for the rail cannon on my armor. And those are over in the Armory."

"It's not that far over there." I pointed out, rather skeptical if laziness was the only thing keeping her from getting anything done.

"Nah, I don't mind walking over there. I just don't want to have to deal with Jakur."

"Ah." I noted pensively. "You two don't seem to get along very well. What gives?"

"We've been stationed in the same sector for a few months now." She began to explain, the quickly backpedaled. "Don't take this the wrong way – I'm no xenophobe. I don't have any issues with Jakur for being a Batarian."

"Alright. So then what issues do you have with him?" I pressed, figuring I should know the dynamics of my own squad.

"Well… I just don't like being around him. I mean, we can work out in the field just fine, but any other time and it's just awkward." She shook her head. "So yeah. Don't mean to make a big deal out of it. Cuz it's not really."

"Alright. If there's a problem, let me know. I don't want my squad to fall apart from the inside out."

"Don't worry about it. We'll be fine." Samantha assured me. "I just need to get motivated and do my work."

"Do you need deadlines or something? Would that help?"

"Nah, I tried that before. I just need to stop putting stuff off is all."

"Uh-huh." I shook my head skeptically. "Didn't you used to work at tech shop on the Citadel?"

"Yeah, kinda. I really just picked up slack and worked part time. I spent most of my time on the extranet or on my own projects." Sam explained sheepishly. "My parents pretty much set me up with my own work station."

"Ah. Right then." I said nothing more about that. I didn't know how else to get her to work. "So if I leave, you're going to try and get this-" I signaled to the mess around us "-under control?"

"Yeah, probably. I'll get started on it at least." She shrugged. "Since you're here, though... I heard from my parents today."

"Yeah? Aren't they on the Citadel?"

"Forrest..." Sam started, wincing a little before she continued. "Didn't you hear about all that? Why I got this tattoo and everything?"

After glancing to the ink version of Citadel in flames on her shoulder, I shook my head.

"I... Look, ok, the Citadel was destroyed during the War."

I stared at her for several seconds. "The whole thing? So... what about a galactic hub? What do we have now?"

"We don't have anything right now. They've started work on New Citadel, but it's just a skeletal frame. Prob won't be completed for another handful of years."

"I'll be damned. Nobody thought to mention that little detail."

"Well, nobody really likes talking about it. I guess."

"So your folks...?"

"They're back on Earth, helping on a colony infrastructure project. Terraforming, I think. I dunno. I told them we were still on base, waiting or deployment. They really don't need to know what we're getting into out here."

xxxx

I sat down on one of the hoverbikes in the Ortona cargo hold. Leaning forward on the handlebars with forearms, I began running the omni-tool permanently installed in my right arm. I had grown accustomed to using it lefty.

That wasn't the important part. What was important was the Thessian Database of Inactive Active and Suspended Commando Units. TDIAS, they called it. It had taken me a good half hour to scour their databanks to find even the current list, and it was horribly incomplete. I mean, there was the 43rd unit, then it jumped right to the 151st. The list, while in evidently numeric order, proceeded in similar pattern with just as many entries missing. I made my way to the 500's. 501, 516… 557.

"Fuck." I growled, scrolling both ways and double checking to make sure I hadn't overlooked anything. Looking harder didn't change the fact the 517th was not on the list.

I stopped looking for several seconds, glaring at the lockers across the hold, trying to come up with another plan. I was going to track down the 517th, one way or another. Maybe I had to dig deeper.

Opening an elevated command on the same page, I began running some of the decryption protocols stored on my omni-tool, trying to get a closer look into the databanks.

After several seconds, the automatic protocol found an inactive server login, and routed through that. That gave me access to more info.

Redacted units.

I scrolled through. There were countless commando units on the list for various reasons. Mostly political, either directly or indirectly. Some would have been bad press. Others would have lead uprisings.

Then I found it.

_517__th__ Commando Unit._

My heart jumped. I was on the right track. I tapped for more details, hoping for a great revelation. Instead, there were three short lines of information:

_Spectre-led unit._

_Disbanded: 2013.  
Reason: [Not Available]_

That information was both inconclusive and depressing. _Disbanded in 2013._ I shook my head. In a direct way, that was probably my fault.

I closed my omni-tool and sat on the bike for several minutes, thinking. I had tried to track down the individual members of my former unit, and found nothing. I had tried to track down the unit, and found nothing but bad news. Maybe it was time to move on. Maybe I would just have to cut my losses, accept that I would never be able to set things right.

_That fucking sucks, if that's the case_. I thought, swinging a leg off the bike and standing up, pacing about the hold for another minute. But what else could I do? I wasn't about to stick my own neck out, broadcast an announcement that I was back. Fuck no. That would have incredibly stupid for one, giving everyone who wanted me dead information, and for two, I could think of very few things more egotistical. _While I'm at it, maybe I could ask the Council to throw me a welcome-back party_. I thought sarcastically, snorting out of disgust.

The old Asari advice of focusing on the present was probably never more true. I didn't want to bring myself to current events, being bound to the past and ever looking towards the future, but I knew what I had to do.

I would have to pick myself up and keep fighting, with or without the rest of the 517th.

So right there, in the middle of the hold, I dropped to floor, setting on my toes and the palms of my hands with my core straight, and tried to do a push-up. Just one.

My left arm and chest nearly buckled. My right arm, being completely bionic, had no trouble, but the rest of my body was far too weak to keep up. I nearly fell on my face as I lowered myself again.

"No." I hissed, pushing myself back up again, "This is just starting."

Already I was sweaty, trembling, and full of anger.

It was starting to come back.

xxxx


	7. Dark Sector

**A/N: Good Thursday to all of you readers, reviewers, fav-ers (thanks for the favor heh), and subscribers!**

**So.. I've been trying to find a balance between combat and character chapters (and trying to blend those into longer missions...) But, being how this is a constant work in progress... I'm always tweaking it. If you've got feedback, eg, would like to see more more combat or more crew interaction, let me know! **

**Til next week...**

**xxxx**

_Chapter VI – Dark Sector_

xxxx

So there we were, geared up and standing in front of the airlock, waiting to board a vacant ship. I tried to hide the fact that every last muscle in my body was sore and protesting, that I had nearly destroyed myself from working out alone. I needed to be a good leader. Strong. Not limping about, half broken with atrophied muscles. Simulated gravity and military rations weren't exactly helping, either, but it gave me the one thing neither Trinder nor I could obtain: time.

Well, my squad didn't to know I was a fucking disaster who could barely lift his own weight. No, I glanced over them as we assembled in the airlock, preparing to board an abandoned ship.

Torr was flexing his shoulders, holding his Vindicator on the ready. The black faceplate of his helmet hid any emotions. There was likely only rage behind the mask. I knew him well enough already.

Jakur, stood idly and brandished his PCR in his right hand, holding it up and waiting. Old four-eyes nodded as I looked at him

Sam had already donned her Mecha armor and was locked and loaded. She certainly wasn't someone I would want to have to fight. Not so long as she had her armor, at least.

"Activating door locks and decontaminating airlock." Jarka yelled from the cockpit.

"Be ready for anything." I warned, checking my Shredder shotgun once more. "Traps, cyborgs, heavies, assassins. The like."

"Probo worse if the Contractor did." Sam growled, voice distorted and grainy through her helmet.

"Guess we'll find out." I popped my neck and turned back to the door. The holo went green; the door opened a moment later and I stepped into the airlock with my squad right behind me. I was uneasy there, leading them into an abandoned ship as the door closed behind us and the door to the hostile ship opened.

I stepped in. We were on the bridge of a large freighter, and it was evident that there had been a fight. Bullet holes in the walls. Several crew, civilians, and guards had been gunned down and lay about in dried pools of blood. Emergency lighting was still on, giving us a fair bit of light to go off, but casting everything in an amber light. Shadows filled empty expanses between lights.

"I don't like this." Torr snarled. "Something feels wrong."

I said nothing for a moment, looking up and down the hallway for a moment. More dead civilians. It looked to be a shipping freighter. There would have been cargo. Maybe something of value. The crew probably took passengers just to offset costs. To my right, towards the back of the ship, seemed where we'd likely find more answers. Then again, I couldn't see the end of the hallway to the left. No telling what was up there other than the cockpit and all that.

I wasn't about to break our squad up. The fact that I couldn't figure out any good pairs, combined with the general tendency of trouble to find small groups, drove me to signal all three TIER specialists to follow me as I started down the hallway to the right.

My guard was up. Every shadow seemed hostile at first, when I first spotted it out of the corner of my eye, only to dispel under closer scrutiny. We were also in a narrow hallway littered with corpses. That was far from reassuring.

Thankfully, we soon broke out into a wider area. Perhaps a mess hall. Seemed likely, judging by the seven long tables set in order across the room. Ten meters across. More bodies.

I knelt down by an armored human male, rolled him over by the shoulder so that he lay on his back and stared up with lifeless eyes. Grey armor with a red right arm. "Contractor." I muttered, looking around for more armored corpses. At least the civvies had a chance to defend themselves and made good on that.

_And that makes everything better?_ I reprimanded myself as I stood up. No. It didn't. I wanted answers. Vengeance.

"Got another one over here." Torr pointed out gruffly, prodding at a dead Asari Contractor with his boot.

"Great, that's two mercs to how many civvies?" Sam boomed, modulator failing to hide the sarcasm and frustration in her voice.

"Who the hell would order their troops to gun down innocent people?" Jakur asked.

"The Contractor. That's who." Sam shot back. "You were so on the second deployments to the Kar'Shan ruins. Didn't you see what he did then?"

"Sure man, but those weren't civilians." The Batarian argued. "Those were militia. No fuss, it was bad… but this is even worse."

"These people weren't innocent." Torr growled, standing up from one civvy with a small, clear bag of red powder. He spun around and tossed it at the wall, where, upon impact, the bag burst into a small biotic detonation.

"Red Sand." I noted dully. "Let's keep moving. See if we can find any survivors."

The rest of my squad seemed to just nod in agreement and fell into formation behind me. We headed towards the elevator. Locked down. Powered down. I raised my omni-tool, hoping to at least unlock the door.

"Please," Sam insisted, pushing by me gently. "Ladies first."

With that, she walked up to the locked door, drew her right arm back, and drove a motorized fist through the center of the lock, disabling the hologram and mechanics in one blow. Then she jammed her other arm through, and with the added power from the mechanized armor, forced the door apart. She stood on the edge of the elevator shaft and glanced back. "I'd guess we need to go to the cargo hold."

"We can start there. Lead the way." I nodded once, giving her the go-ahead.

So the Doomsday armor operator leapt blindly into the shaft. There was a several moment delay before I heard impact, sounding to be about three levels down. A slight pause as whatever Sam landed on gave way, and she fell again briefly. Then it was silent, except for her grating chuckles and the protest of thin metal as she punched another door.

I went into the shaft without any more hesitation, grabbing onto a pipe that continued along side the elevator run, then I began sliding down.

I almost made it to the bottom before my left hand gave out, leaving me holding onto the pipe with my bionic hand alone for a good moment before I lost my grip and fell all the way off. At that point, I was just a meter above the crashed elevator, and so I landed on top of it, stumbling, then making my forward and out into the cargo bay as I tried to play it off.

Having first crushed the elevator, then torn the door off, the Doomsday operator was already standing out in the hold, and I stood by her side, inspecting the mostly-empty hold. There was only shitty, orange light, but I could make out several shuttles and weapon crates stacked against the walls. More bodies. All crew of the freighter. No blood. It looked like the place had been depressurized with them still inside. Gave me a real nasty feeling that rose and burnt the back of my throat. The lack of blood was what got to me.

Torr and Jakur soon landed behind us and moved out into the hold. All four of us were silent as I walked forward into the empty center of the cargo bay, where, judging by the outline of bodies, there had been a massive crate. Maybe it had been three by ten meters.

I stopped, standing in the middle of the empty space. I didn't know what to think, other than that Torr was right and something was very, very wrong.

Then I heard it. Soft, futile noise from across the hold. I started towards one of the shuttles, seeing as the noise seemed to be coming from the gap between the vehicle and a nearby crate. It almost sounded like crying. That couldn't be right.

I approached cautiously and peered around the corner of the shuttle, shotgun raised and about ready to shoot anything that moved.

Instead, there was only an human female crewmember, sitting in a fetal position with blood-caked brown hair falling over her face and knees. Still trembling. Still alive.

"Hey!" I tried to get her attention as quiet as possible. We were only two meters apart. "You OK?"

She stopped trembling for a moment and looked up, hair falling back out of the way just enough that she could see me and I could see her. She looked ruffled, a few gashes across her face, likely the source of the blood in her hair, but otherwise nothing was amiss. No cybernetics. Maybe it wasn't a trap. Maybe she was just the unlucky survivor.

"Please… D-don't let them…" She lifted her right arm hopelessly.

Then I saw it. A grey metal gauntlet bolted down on her forearm, three yellow vials protruding towards me.

"Oh shit." Alarm kicked in. No doubt the Contractor's work. I didn't want to know what it did, and I started backing away despite that hopeless, pleading look in her eyes.

"T-they said… said you would kn-know what to do!" She stammered, begging for help with the one hand extended, reaching towards me.

It only got worse. A moment later, a small holo rose from the gauntlet. An audio line, flat until it began. _"Well. Jackson and your TIER underlings. I figured you'd be as nosy as before...and the first one to this scene. Perfect, I'd say."_

"What the hell did you do to her?" I shot back, glaring at the Contractor's unidentifiable communication.

"_Did you actually thing things would be the same? That nothing would change between the Old Contractor and me?_" He laughed, voice distorted by the same old modulator. _"I revived all the old intel. And there were some very, very interesting projects. You probably remember the mutation virus that he unleashed on several stations?"_

"Don't you dare put innocent lives between us."

"_Yes, it didn't work very well the first time. Unstable and all that. But with lots of improvement and experimentation... Well, aren't you curious to see what that virus can do now that I've got the formula figured out? Now, lay in hell with the rest of that crew."_

The transmission cut and I was left staring into the wide, terrified eyes of the human civilian. For a second I could say nothing, and when I did finally speak, it was only in a whisper. "I'm sorry."

An instant later, all three vials emptied. The girl fell forward, clutching her injected arm and screaming in agony.

I backed away, glanced to my squad and ordered. "Shoot to kill if need be."

With the four of us armed up and watching, we only stood there as the human writhed on the floor for several seconds. Then, slowly, she began to stop. Got her hands and feet back under her and rose to a hunched stand. She glared at us for several seconds more. A guttural voice came from her face, sounding more Vorcha than Human, and she screamed: "I see _everything_!"

It was then that mutation went into full effect. The transformation began with her right arm, muscles beginning to expand uncontrollably and dimensions starting to change; in a matter of seconds her arm more closely resembled her leg in size. The rest of her body followed suit, though not as drastically, muscles charging up and distorting her figure.

There before us stood something not even vaguely Human, more a lopsided mess of muscle and torn clothes. Unlike before, the mutant was not falling apart. The Contractor had streamlined the transformation.

"Open fire!" I yelled, quickly drawing my MR13 and firing off a shot. That one shot was immediately followed by bursts of Vindicator fire, minigun spray, and Viper rounds.

The barrage lasted for several seconds, accelerated rounds tearing into the mutant until it fell back on its haunches, shredded and bleeding.

We ceased fire.

For several seconds, the Contractor mutant sat there motionless. Then it began rising back to its feet, flesh regenerating over its wounds, negating the damage we had done.

That was bad.

"Supermutant on the loose!" I yelled as it began to charge towards us, oversized right arm raised back. I flicked my tech runners on from an omni-tool shortcut, launching myself forward and skating twenty meters out of the way and drawing my tech katanas.

The mutant smashed into Sam, mashing her down with one punch, then sending the doomsday armor stumbling back and falling to the deck with another.

I rushed back in, the tech runners letting me close in and take a wide slash at the mutant. I swung my blade clean through its left forearm, just below the elbow. The dismembered limb hit the ground, and the monster turned around, swinging at my with its right arm once, forcing me out of blade range, then picked up its lost limb and pressing it back into place.

I could almost hear the cells regenerating, reattaching the lost arm.

It was then that I began to wonder if I was not completely out of my element, left without any way to take the Contractor creation down. I sprinted away on my runners, putting the entire hold between the supermutant and me. Then the runners ran out of charge. Deactivated. I yelled, "Switch to incendiary rounds and focus fire, Sam, get a lock on with your rail cannon!"

As the Contractor experiment charged towards me, the rest of the squad complied. More or less – Torr was fumbling with his rifle, not sure how to switch ammo toggles. The hostile was on fire from incendiary Viper shavings, but still coming right at me. Then the rail shot hit. Dead center of mass, knocking the supermutant off of its feet as a hole blasted right through its gut. The metal slug stopped several centimeters into the bulkhead. Too close to space to be a good idea.

Still the supermutant didn't slow down, lunging after me well before it had regenerated completely. I had to move, sliding over the hood of a shuttle, landing, then diving to the side as my cover was smashed back. I had barely rolled onto my feet before I drew the Shredder, taking aim at the hostile's face before unleashing two, three quick blasts. That bought me time to fall back, and gave the rest of the squad room to keep firing.

"Jackson," Samantha boomed, "This thing is nuts – even burning it won't do enough damage to keep up with regeneration. I could sure go with a better plan of action about now!"

I was in a full run, dropping onto my back and sliding in behind another shuttle and popping back onto my feet. I shook my head. "It can't regenerate forever. Keep the pressure on and aim for the head."

The mutant was practically on top of me when I glanced back out of cover. No time to think or plan, I sent another shotgun blast to the mutant's face at point-blank range, sending it staggering back as I vaulted over a crate, reactivated my runners and launched across the room. Back to the rest of my team

The mutant had already recovered and was starting after me.

"No!" Torr screamed from across the hold, off on his own, slinging the Vindicator back over his shoulder and drawing his buzzaxe as he sprinted forward. "YOU! Crispy crunchy carrion – fake rage! Open your mind, fill it with pain!"

The psycho Vorcha launched himself forward, crashing into the supermutant axe-first, driving the spinning blade into the monster's ribs. The mutant seemed rather unbothered, perhaps enraged, by the distraction. It threw Torr to the ground, then launched a devastating punch at the downed Vorcha. Torr barely rolled out of the way, coming right and slashing the mutant's arm with his axe as he leapt back to his feet and shouldered the former human away.

I had switched to the MR13. Holding the revolver in both hands, I fired shot after shot, slow and well aimed. Each shaving impacted the hulking mutant, sending a ripple through the flesh before it regenerated. It wasn't very effective.

"Fall for the fallen! I'll spill your pseudo-synthetic blood for them all!" Torr screamed, then unleashed another flurry of blows against the supermutant, slicing its chest up in every which way, deep wounds that would have slowed even the toughest Krogan warlord down.

The supermutant batted Torr away, sending the Vorcha skidding across the floor towards the elevator.

"I might have been wrong." I admitted, to Sam, "Shooting it more isn't going to work."

"No it's not, dude!" Jakur agreed, even though he kept landing shots with his viper.

About then, I had a really bad idea. "Does everyone have oxygen supplies in their armor?"

"Copy that!" Sam replied.

"Yes sir!" Jakur confirmed.

"I won't run from a fight!" Torr yelled, picking his axe back up and glaring towards the supermutant. "All or nothing; nothing or all! It's time for the ancient warlords to tremble in their graves as giants topple and cities fall!"

"Torr – STOP!" I yelled from across the hold.

He complied, mid-step, almost freezing as if he didn't know what to do; listen to me or listen to his own anger. The fact that he actually stopped was a good start.

"Sam, hit the airlock with a rail blast!" I ordered, dropping down and dragging through several menus on my omni-tool, launching several cyberwarfare attacks against the emergency containment field systems.

Not a moment later, I heard the Doomsday armor rail cannon go off, a streak of blue leading towards the cargo bay doors, driving a hole through, then tearing out a whole section of metal as the vacuum of space tugged on the guts of the ship.

I nearly lost my footing as the air rushed by. With the main locks damaged, the massive doors slid a meter ajar. Nothing keeping us from the vacuum of space.

Jakur ducked back to the wall, pressing his back into one of the joists. Sam punched into the floor, likely grabbing something sturdy underneath, and Torr had his axe smashed into the floor and was holding on whilst screaming. I had both of my katanas driven into the floor sideways to give a handhold. Only my bionic hand was doing a very good job of holding on.

The mutant nearly went sailing out, but like the rest of us, didn't lose to the suction. The seconds passed by as air surged past and the former Human crouched and emitted silent screams as it clung to an anchor point in the floor.

Then it was still. Empty, as the room was without air. I felt the oxygen supply kick in on my armor; an indicator popped up in my HUD. Twenty minutes of oxygen left. The mutant wasn't so lucky. I could tell, even within seconds, that the vacuum was straining it even further.

It was time to strike. I ordered over our radio comms, "Torr, go for the head!"

As the psycho sprinted towards the supermutant, I rushed forward. Reactivated both tech blades, tips of the katanas dragging along the floor as they sprang to life. I had the supermutant targeted.

Torr struck first, leaping into the air and using the added momentum to drive his axe into the mutant's face. A moment later, I struck from the other side, driving both of my tech blades through its back, hoping one would go through its heart.

It seemed to be the final blow. The mutant let out a silent scream as its empty lungs could provide no air and it slumped to its knees. This time, it did not rise again. It toppled, slumping over on the floor, finally put to peace.

I deactivated my tech blades and found myself standing to face to-face with a crouched Vorcha Psycho who looked like he was not ready for the rampage to end. We stared each other down for several seconds, then he backed off.

"Rage with purpose conquers even the mighty mountains sent crumble in cataclysms of blood." Then he hung the axe on his hip.

Not without a deep breath of relief, I nodded once and addressed the team as a whole. "Good work everyone."

"_Jackson, is everything alright in there?"_ Jarka called over the radio. _"Scans show that the whole ship just went depressurized!"_

"Copy that. We're good." I glanced to my omni-tool and checked my oxygen reserves. "We've still got time to search this place. We still don't know why the hell the Contractor hit here."

"_Commander… with all due respect, we need to move fast."_ Jarka replied. _"A ship just came out of FTL ten clicks away."_

_Shit_. I thought. "Ok, get undocked and come pick us up from the cargo hold. We're going to have to jump ship."

"_Already en route. I'll have the airlock ready for your arrival."_

I nodded, forgetting that the pilot couldn't see my gestures. Then I turned to the rest of the crew. "Alright, Let's move. Go go go!"

The three other members of the ground team began towards the cargo bay doors as I signaled them on. I was the last to fall into line, to fall into a run. Sam was at the head of the pack as the Ortona came into sight in space ahead of us. She barely squeezed through the door, then leapt for the airlock twenty meters away.

Twenty meters of floating towards the small, open airlock. Sam barely made it, crashing in to the small confines. Jakur was right behind, landing safely in the Ortona. Torr hesitated for a moment, then leapt wildly, flailing all the way to the other ship, where upon landing, he scrambled up on all fours and pressed against the inner airlock.

I hadn't hesitated before diving from the freighter towards my own frigate. Only… the target ship was upside-down from the direction I had dove. The new artificial gravity field hit and I landed flat on my back, sliding to a stop before propping myself up on an elbow. "We're all in, Jarka. Get the decon running and try and get a scan on that ship."

The outer airlock door slammed shut. I rose to my feet, looked around at my squad. Another run under our belts. No major injuries, but everyone was breathing hard and likely relieved to be done with the freighter. The airlock pressurized, a brief UV blast passing over our armor. Then the inner door opened and I rushed through, right to the cockpit with the rest of the team on my heels.

I came to a halt leaning on the back of the pilot's seat, staring out the window. "Can we get a line of sight yet?"

"Copy that, commander." Jarka replied, activating several short-range boosters to flip us around. "I don't recognize the signature on it, though. I can't tell if it's hostile or not."

"What's the IMF?" I pressed.

"Unable to verify. It appears to be jammed." Jarka shook his head.

"Let's get a comms channel open." I ordered, glancing back. "Sam, arm up our main cannon."

"Roger that!" The young Mecha operator complied with surprising enthusiasm as she stepped out of her armor and rushed forward to the seat on my right, cracking her knuckles before pulling up the haptic panels.

"Commander, I can get started on power management." Jakur offered.

"Do it." I nodded.

With that, the Batarian quickly took a seat to my left and pulled up a haptic panel straight away.

The unidentified ship was too far out to make out very well; I couldn't tell what species had built it, but I could tell that it was a light grey and yellow. It wasn't the Contractor. Not yet anyhow.

"Commander," Jarka began, glancing back at me, "They've accepted our secure channel request. Should I bring up a feed?"

"Please." I nodded, standing up straight and popping my neck.

A moment later, a yellow holo, a half-meter diagonal, sprung up from the dashboard. We were looking right back into another ship. The first figured was wearing light armor, metallic grey with two yellow stripes running down the chestplate. It looked female. I couldn't tell any more; not with the full face helmet. There was the black, abstract tracing of skull on the lower half of the faceplate, but that was the only distinguishing feature. Then, behind her, there were four more female figures in similar armor. Sans the skull.

I was glad I had kept my helmet on for the transmission. I didn't know who we were dealing with, and I sure didn't trust them.

"_Under Council Spectre authority, you are ordered to lower shields and deactivate weapons. You've been caught._" The skull-painted character began. _"If you do not comply, we will disable your ship. This is your only chance to submit peacefully."_

That certainly didn't go down as the warmest welcome ever.

And you know what? I wasn't sure what I expected. Of course the Council was going to send a Spectre to investigate this sort of thing. We were fools to think otherwise. I shook my head. "Now hold on. First, we just got here. Second, you're not gonna convince me you're a Spectre that easily."

"Commander… " Jarka began, pointing to a small holo screen with the name of the ship: _AMF Retryna._

_Shit_. I thought to myself, looking back to the holo screen of the other ship. Far too clean and professional to be mercs. We were dealing with commandos at the very least, and judging by how well they were armed… they very well could be a Spectre squad.

The claimed Spectre continued. _"The 687__th__ commando unit has been assigned to investigate and apprehend any suspect ships related to incident. Consider yourself suspect."_ She glanced down, as if new information had just come in.

"Commander… they just cracked through our IMF cloaking device." Jarka warned. He sounded worried.

"_TIER Ortona,"_ The Spectre started back up, _"You are under arrest for war crimes, unapproved genetic and cybernetic experimentation, theft of Council property, theft of weapons of mass destruction, and unauthorized acquisition of sensitive information. Prepare for immediate apprehension."_

I stared at the screen blankly for a moment. I didn't want to fight a Spectre. I didn't mean to be an outlaw. It just... ended up that way. I was in no place to be taken in, Not while the Contractor was loose. I lowered my head. "I'm sorry, Spectre. I'm afraid we've gotten off on the wrong foot. I'm here after the Contractor. That's it. I don't mean these civilians or you any harm."

Instead of making peace, I seemed to have struck a nerve. The Spectre snarled under her helmet. _"Don't you dare try to make yourself out to be a saint. I have seen what your organization is capable of."_

"Will you at least hear me out?" I asked curiously and good-hearted.

The holo screen shut off, disconnected from the other end. That was that, and that was over.

"Someone sure has a chip on her shoulder." Sam commented.

None of us expected the lights to go out. Or the safety lights to come on, a dull red flicker. Nor did we expect the engines to lose power. That was a turn for the worst.

"Commander," Jarka reported hastily, "We've been hit with cyberwarfare attacks. I'm trying to… nope, all weapon and propulsion systems are down!"

The one thing I wanted to avoid. And there we were, dead in the water with the Spectre coming in for the kill. Arrest, whatever. It didn't make much difference to me. We needed to get gone. "What options do we have?"

"Well, we can switch over to complete manual. I'm going to need everyone running system nodes, though." The pilot noted uncomfortably. "I need someone on nav, power controls… someone needs to go get the power core running again…"

"Alright." I nodded, glancing around briefly. "Sam, Jakur... stay here and do your thing. Torr, stay by the airlock and knock out anyone who tries to board. I'll get the core back up and going."

Without another word, we took off, Torr and I at a sprint until he reached the airlock where he stopped. I kept running as fast as my weak and seizing legs would take me. Across the combat deck, down the stairs. Nearly crashing down said stairs as I tried to take them five at a time, reaching the landing and jumping clear down the last set, hitting the floor and rolling. Leaping to my feet and pushing through the subdeck, through to the small area where the core controls were.

I came to a stop, heart pounding and lungs burning from even the short burst. I looked over the controls. There were three breakers, all tripped. I flipped them back, hoping for the best. The inactive core sputtered, coming back to life, blue glow starting to blind me.

"_Jackson, there's a master switch to the left of the breakers – you need to activate that in order for us to switch to manual!"_ Jarka informed me over the radio.

I looked over to my left and saw the massive switch on the wall. Rusted, looking like it had never been used. I seized the handle and went to pull it up.

The handle busted off in my hands. For a split second, I stared at the handle and the barren switch on the wall. "Fuck!"

"_You better make it quick – they've nearly docked!"_

I threw the handle out into the subdeck and drew one of my tech katanas, the yellow blade far too large for such tight confines. I didn't know what else to do, so I drove it in where the handle had been and pried against the flat of the blade.

It still didn't give. It was rusted all to hell. I kept leaning into it, praying that it would break over.

The switch refused to buckle. Then there was a crash as the Spectre's ship went to dock. That broke the switch over, a few sparks flying as I crashed into the wall, pressure finally released.

Our entire ship rocked, probably yawing away from the attempted dock. I stumbled back, deactivating my tech blade before I put an eye out, and catching myself against the opposite wall.

"_Everyone hold on! This is going to be a rough jump!"_ Jarka warned.

I didn't exactly have time to brace myself before getting slammed back into the wall as we mashed into FTL. I stayed plastered to the wall for a second, then slumped forward. I lay there on the floor for a moment. Relieved.

I rose up, holstered my tech blade and took off my assassin mask, staring at the blank faceplate reflecting the drive core's bright light. I didn't quite understand it all.

Shaking my head, I started back up towards the main deck.

We were playing it close to the chest, alright. That was even too close for my liking. But I laughed as I hobbled back up the stairs and thought to myself, _one hell of a getaway_.

By the time I made it back to the bridge, Torr was sitting down on the floor, back against the wall and tapping his boots with the dull end of his axe. He nodded as I approached.

The rest of the crew was still in the cockpit. Sam had slumped forward, resting her head on her forearm,, glancing back and sitting up slightly as I approached. Jakur sat with his hands clasped in front of his mouth. And Jarka was going wild through haptic controls.

"Well…" I began leaning against the wall. "That was close."

"We've actually got a Spectre after us now, don't we?" Jakur sounded borderline on panic. "Oh man, this isn't good! Where did we go wrong?"

"Oh, we're fine." Sam dismissed him with a halfassed wave, still leaning forward on the console. "We made some paper-pusher angry. Big fricking deal. Spectres aren't even supposed to be out in the Termy."

"I'll talk to her." I shrugged rather nonchalantly. "She probably just needs clarification. Spectres usually don't play close to the law anyway."

"What's it matter anyway?" Torr growed, having made his way up to join the conversation.

"It matters," I explained, "because we need all the help we can get to take down the Contractor. We can't afford to piss of the Council governments in the process. We're still the underdogs here."

Torr grunted something that could have been taken as agreement. He seemed disappointed that he couldn't fight them.

"Man, I'm worried." Jakur persisted. "We're not really the bad guys here, are we? I mean… Spectres stand for good causes."

"There's no telling what she stands for." I leaned against the wall and wiped my face down with the back of my hand. "For all I know, she could be in the Contractor's pocket. Now, I don't think she is, but my point is that we don't know."

"Yeah. So long as we don't cross paths with her again, we'll be fine." Sam added.

"And what if she's fighting the same fight we are, following the same leads, striking to raze the same bases?" Torr asked. "What then?"

"Then there shouldn't be any reason for us to be enemies." I shook my head. "Don't worry about it. I'll let things cool down a bit, then try to work some reason into her."

"Sorry to interrupt…" The pilot interrupted, "But Trinder is calling you. Should I patch him through?"

"Sure thing." I nodded once and brushed the sweaty hair out of my face, slicked it back best I could.

The holo came up in the same space that the Spectre had been shortly before. Jack smiled as he saw me and the rest of the crew. "_Commander Jackson."_

"Trinder." I saluted.

"_Considering you are all in one piece, I hope it is a fair assumption that the last mission was a success."_

"Sure. it wasn't a complete failure."

"_Good. I hope to elaborate in more detail, but… for the time being, there is a matter that necessitates your return to the headquarters."_

"There's gonna be more than one matter that important." I snorted, then added. "But we'll change course and be there directly."

"_Good. Stay safe, my boy."_

With that the holo shut down.

"The hell was that?" Torr asked.

"I dunno. Trying to figure it out myself."

"Must be important if he doesn't want to say anything over the air." Sam pointed out.

I nodded, silent for several seconds. "Well, Jarka. Take us back, I guess. That was one hell of a short tour."

"Could have been a shorter tour with a long time locked up." The pilot joked.

"I'd rather not think about it." I shook my head, glancing over my squad once more. "Well… settle back in, I suppose. Hopefully we've seen enough action for the time being that it doesn't need to find us."

xxxx


	8. Fragmented

_Chapter VII – Fragmented_

xxxx

_I'm back in the purple chair, my hands draped over the tall velvet armrests. I'm in the center of a room; the floor a black and white hexagon tile pattern; the walls are purple drapes that seem to hang from the shadows above. There's a sourceless light as I sit there, illuminating the whole space. I watch the curtains ahead, the three-meter long wall of the orderly purple velvet._

_I know this place. I've been here before, if only in dreams. I don't know what it is or why I'm here. But I know I'm to wait. _

_After a minute, the curtains part and an Asari ducks in, brushing the fabric out of the way as she steps onto the tile floor. Her head is bowed, staring at her feet. I see a drop of blood fall onto her boots as the drapes rustle back into place behind her. I lean forward in my chair, try to speak out. My voice is garbled, washed out as though I was under water._

_The Asari slowly lifts her head, revealing the face of a matron. A face marked with familiar red markings to indicate Krogan descent. I recognize Kaira just moments before I realize something is amiss with her face. _

_Her eyes. They're sunken back, replaced by yellow cybernetics. Lines and implantation marks run back towards her fringe. She stares at me for several seconds, an unnerving cold and lifeless gaze, then turns and pushes the curtain out of the way and leaves._

xxxx

There was hustle and bustle all around as the Ortona came into dock at the TIER station. People running around the docks to guide our frigate into place, others running the mag-dock clamps, others getting refuel adapters ready. It was a fucking zoo, TIER personnel everywhere. The four of us, the ground crew, had all gathered around the cockpit, all in our casual wear. For Torr, that meant armor.

"So what's our plan?" Sam asked, leaning on the wall behind me.

"I'm guessing we'll be here for a day or so, resupply, and head back out. See what Jack wants us to know." I shook my head. "So, stay ready to rock and roll."

_Not much more to say right now…_ I thought, glancing back at my mismatched squad. _Not until I figure out why Jack called us back._

The ship jarred as we finally landed. I could hear a gangway extending to the airlock. I slapped the back of the pilot's chair. "Nice flying, Jarka. Thanks again for getting us out of that mess."

"Any time, com-Forrest. Any time." The Salarian nodded, never looking away from the five haptic panels he had running.

I made eye contact with each member of the ground team. "Well, I guess we've got time to wander around. Keep your radios active in case things get choppy."

Without so much as another word, we made our way out of the ship. I was the first one to step off the gangway.

Trinder was already there and waiting. Hell, if I had known that, I would have worn something nicer than duty slacks and a tanktop. Jack didn't seem to mind my ragged appearance, though, still beaming as I approached.

"Jack." I acknowledged as I shook his hand.

"Welcome back, Forrest. I'm glad to see you and the squad survived your first tour." He nodded. "Come, we have much to discuss."

I glanced back at my squad and nodded. Gave them free reign for a while. Then I followed Jack as he rolled along the dock. We were silent. There were many eyes upon us, strange looks from dock hands as we passed by. Perhaps it had something to do with my bionic arm. I didn't know. I figured whatever needed to be discussed was meant to be hushed, so I said nothing until we reached the elevator and stepped aboard. Then, with just Jack and me in the lift, I asked. "So, what happened? Why'd we get called back?"

"There are a number of reasons, my boy. First being, I did not want to stress you or your team any more than necessary on the first tour. Considering the odds you faced, I didn't believe it wise to press more, as I believe you ended on a positive note."

"Well, we pissed off a council Spectre who wants to arrest us now and we just barely got away." I snorted. Apart from our not being dead or arrested, it didn't seem all that positive to me.

"Ah, well... that's a concerning matter for future missions. We'll need to formulate a plan for future confrontations." Jack shook his head. " more importantly, I may have found a lead on the Contractor."

I stood in shock, unmoving as the elevator door opened and Jack wheeled out. Then I shook my head violently and followed. "Say what?"

We were back in a lounge area, overlooking the nearby star. A few sparse pieces of furniture on the black floor. Looked the same as before. Jack wheeled over and stopped next to the sofa in the center of the room. "Yes, my boy. An information broker on Illium claims to have the location of the main Contractor base. At least that's what our sources claim. He hasn't made this information public… likely for fear of retribution."

"We didn't... We don't get breaks like that. Why ain't we already on it?"

"Because, my boy, patience is a virtue." Jack smiled and chuckled at me. I was antsy as hell, not wanting to sit down but rather run back out the door. "Nothing is so simple. Take a seat and I'll explain."

I complied begrudgingly.

"You see, Forrest... this is a new information broker, one who seemed shady to say the least. We seldom are approached my information brokers. As you can imagine, it is only reasonable to be skeptical when someone seeks you out to tell you that they have information crucial to your very mission."

"Alright. I can understand that." I said nothing about liking the pause in action part, because I didn't. "So what are we waiting on?"

"Currently, our in-house information sorters are making sure he's trustworthy. Chasing down old communication records, old residences, military records, and the like. It'll be at least two days until we've cleared him."

Two days, and really the whole thing seemed a bit excessive to me. Caution shouldn't have so much of a place. But I wasn't the one in charge, so I had to step back, accept some things as what they were. I nodded. "Alright. So we'll have a little bit of time to regroup and go back at it."

"Precisely." Jack agreed, pausing for a moment as he dug out the bottle of scotch and two glasses. "Now, how did your last tour go? Are you comfortable with your squad?"

"More or less. Jakur and Sam bicker more often than not, and Torr is absolutely insane." I shook my head. "We've pulled it off so far."

"Can you trust Torr?" Jack inquired, passing me a glass of scotch.

"I think so. It doesn't seem like I should at times, but out of the lot, he seems the most dedicated. At least he'd be the first to give his life for the fight."

"Very well then. I will leave that judgment to you. You know who you can trust and who you cannot."

I snorted, knowing I had been deceived before, and would be again. I wasn't sure if Torr would be the one, though. "I know I can trust the sliver of rational personality he has. But that's usually not the part in charge."

"So I see." Jack chuckled and raised his glass. "Now, do tell me... what was the incident with this Spectre?"

"Well." I shook my head, chortling with dry amusement. "That ship you sent us to investigate... The Contractor had already been there, killed most of the crew and took whatever important cargo it had. Then they left just one civilian, rigged her with some sort of injection deal. The old Contractor had similar stuff. Mutates a victim, gives 'em strength, speed, and regeneration at the cost of turning them feral. First we tried to shoot her down and that didn't work. We fought around for a while, then spaced the entire cargo hold. Finally killed the supermutant and we're starting to think about looking for clues when Jarka let us know that we've got company.

"So we get the hell out, jump ship. Get back on the Ortona and open up a comm channel. We get them up on a holo screen. It's this one Asari Spectre and four commandos. They're all armored out, helmeted up. Couldn't tell who they were. Anyway, she tells us that we're under arrest for a whole bunch of stuff that the Contractor pulled. I tell her no, I can't let her do that. So she cuts of the transmission and hits us with a cyberwarfare attack. Takes out all of our systems." I took a breath before continuing. "So we jumped into action, got the ship into manual and got out of there before they could actually board us. Hell, they were even docked. Way too close."

"I see." Jack noted. "Would you have any idea why they were there?"

"She said to investigate the abandoned ship. Problem is, now we'll probably get tied to it."

"That is a problem." Jack shook his head and stared out at the star. "She may be after the same enemy as us. In which case, your paths will likely cross again."

"Yeah." I agreed, taking a sip of my drink. "She doesn't act like she'd be willing to work with us, though. Wanted to play things real close to the book."

"Well… I'll have a technician crew look at the software on the Ortona. They might be able to uncover something about this Spectre. At least give us an identity."

"That would be a start. I'd rather avoid her if at all possible."

"For the time being, that will be your best bet. Times are difficult enough as it is. We needn't incur the wrath of a Spectre and the Council."

I nodded; I remained silent for several seconds as my mind drifted off.

Jack seemed to take notice. "Something troubling you, my boy?"

"Yeah, actually." I began quietly. "I've gone on a tour now. I've proven that I can fight, even against the top Contractor dogs. Now I want answers."

"I need questions before I can give you those." Jack replied light-heartedly.

"Fair enough. So, you said the Contractor had launched searches to try and find a Reaper sentinel."

"That's correct. That was near the beginning, when his forces weren't much of a threat. We were able to push them around. We actually drove them out of the sector and began searching ourselves. After some time, we found what they were looking for: the remains of an organic outfitted with a cybernetic nervous system."

"Remains?" I asked skeptically.

"My boy, it had been nearly one hundred and eighty years. Even in space, organic matter deteriorates in a hurry. To be frank, there wasn't much left - small bits of muscle affixed to bones. Enough to give us a DNA sample of your former self and a frame to start the process."

"But I was like that… there's no way you could have rebuilt me."

"Oh, rebuilding you would have been utterly impossible. We could only salvage what was left intact and that was mostly nervous system." He tapped the side of his head, indicating he was referring to my equivalent of a normal brain. "In fact, we stripped the remaining organic material from the cybernetics and started anew. It took nearly two years of engineering to create an environment that would allow us to grow a new, organic body from your DNA."

"You cloned me." I stated, trying to put in terms that I could wrap my head around.

"In effect. We produced a body identical to your last, developed around your existing nervous structure. Why do you think you have no scars?"

He was right. I glanced down, double-checking. I had none of the scars from before, none of the battle wounds. "I…" I started to stammer. "Am I still… me?"

"That depends on how you look at yourself." Jack replied. "You're still the Reaper Sentinel that you were before. You are simply wearing fresh skin."

I stared at my left hand for several seconds. The skin almost seemed more unnatural than the black, cybernetic right hand now. No, in fact, I was uncomfortable in this skin. It wasn't mine. Yet it was. I didn't know what to think, and I was only confusing myself, digging myself deeper into worry. I had another question: "Why put all this work into me? Into a ground trooper?"

"It was evident that you gave the Contractor something to fear. It was less a practical decision than a symbolic one. If TIER was to lead an offensive against the Contractor, there would be no fear. But if the same Reaper Sentinel that slew the original Contractor returned… it would mean something." Jack paused, glancing down to his drink, and continued sadly. "And, the full truth be told, some of it was selfish. I have seen many men like you sent to early graves. You may have been a Sentinel, but I still believed that such a fate left many loose ends. I wanted to give you a second chance."

I stared at my divergent hands, trying to make words fit together in an order that would seem coherent to Jack. I wanted to thank him, tell him how much I did appreciated the second chance even if it opened up old wounds, that I would be able to get over the strangeness of having a new body, that I was more than willing to take on the Contractor for both Trinder and the fallen, for the 517th and everyone else who had been caught in the middle. I only managed two words. "Thank you."

"My boy, it is me who is thankful. I took tremendous risks in bringing you back to the land of the living, some even said I was crazy. But it paid off. Already I can tell that." He smiled warmly. The first genuine smile I had seen in while.

"Well… I appreciate it." I managed before another question blurted itself out. "Do you know how much my cybernetics can do?"

"We don't understand your nervous system fully, and our early attempts to reverse-engineer it were botched. As far as we can tell, it's designed to be an upgrade to your organic nervous system. Better performance, more range for adjustability, and originally, the ability to conduct power from its partner Reaper. Yet it seems limited to that. It doesn't assist with regeneration or natural healing processes."

"I'll keep that in mind." Even with all my 'upgrades,' I was still overwhelmed, if not a bit worried. I would learn to adapt, I would build this body up until I was stronger and faster than before. But what would other people think? What would the 517th think if they were still alive? Would they still see me as… me? I shook those thoughts out my head best I could. I didn't want the self-doubt. Not now. "So, where do we go now?"

"Well, you'll have some time to regroup, get any supplies or weapons that your squad was missing, and hopefully head to Illium in the very near future to strike a deal with this information broker."

xxxx

I found Torr sitting idly atop a shipping container, legs dangling as he watched dock workers scurrying to and forth. The psycho had lost his helmet, but otherwise remained armored up. The axe still hung from his hip, and he watched as I approached.

"Forrest."

"Mind if I have a seat?" I asked out of due respect.

"Fine by me." The Vorcha replied, watching as I jumped, grabbed the edge of the container and heaved myself up.

So there I was, sitting next to a psychotic Vorcha on top of a shipping container, watching TIER dockhands go about their job. We sat there in silence for several seconds before I spoke. "What do you think about the Spectre on our tail?"

"Makes me angry." Torr growled right away, then after a second of hesitation elaborated. "She's picking a fight. I want to do just that, run through her and the rest of her squad with a bloody axe. But I know I shouldn't. Conflict. What to do, what to do?"

"I don't like running either." I admitted as I stared at two Asari carrying a crate of food supplies to the Ortona. "But I'm afraid that's what we need to do now. Stay out of the Spectre's way, lay down the hurt on the Contractor."

"I can follow that plan." Torr agreed, amiable enough. "I see you know when to hold back. With the supermutant, you knew right when to lay off and weaken it. Timing right, strike and kill. The same with the Spectre."

"I'm learning, Torr. I'm not there yet." I shook my head and snorted._ Not by a long shot._

"I can see how it makes you stronger than just rushing the entire time, but… I can't do it." Torr snarled. "I want to fight. Every moment of every minute. Fight. Kill. Crack skulls and send blood splattering across the floor."

Several dockhands glanced as he swung his arm wildly. So Torr fell silent for several seconds before continuing in a more quiet, reserved manner, kicking at the container with his heel uncomfortably. "There's something I need to get out of my lungs."

"What's that?" I asked, looking over and watching the Vorcha as he spoke with an unwavering gaze into space ahead.

"The only thing I actually fear is death. And that makes me angry." He shook his head, distracted before he continued. "But I don't like heights. Not the vantage, not the idea of falling. They've brought me close to death."

"So jumping through space…" I began, thinking I knew where he was going.

"I did it. Took every last scrap and my mind still shakes if I think back too long."

"Alright." I noted, clasping my hands together in my lap. "I'll try to avoid those in the future."

"Thank you." Torr growled appreciatively.

"And thank you for letting me know. I can plan ahead to give us stronger lines." I was telling the truth. I could plan ahead, change my approach. Tricky, since I liked heights. I preferred the vantage points, being above enemies so that I could jump and smash them without giving them so much as a heads up. But if part of my squad didn't like that, I could adjust. Nothing was set in stone.

"So…" Torr began, obviously trying to start a conversation, "How did you become a warrior?"

I thought about that for a moment. "I'd like to say I turned to violence out of necessity. But… I probably could have found another way. I chose the path I'm on now. I chose to embrace becoming a professional killer."

"Har. Was it really such a smooth transition?"

I snorted. "No. Not at all. I fought it at first. I didn't want to think of myself as violent, or as the person who would shoot first." I shook my head, thinking back to the days to when I felt remorse for each kill. I didn't want to go back to that. I knew I couldn't. "I guess part of it's how I'm programmed now."

"Programmed. Right. I forget you're nailed together with cybernetics." Torr grunted. "So if you're based on a robot's frame, why bother with weak fleshy bits?"

I shook my head, having thought the same thing before, and only coming up with one decent explanation. "I'm only so strong on my own. I need to be able to fit in, to have a squad. Would you really follow a machine into battle?"

"No. I get your point."

We were silent for several more seconds. I spoke first that time. "So, did you always know that you were a killer?"

Torr chuckled. At least, he made a similar noise. "Oh yes. As long as I can remember, I wanted to kill. It's not just me. Most Vorcha are that way in order to survive. And that's why we can't get anywhere. They refuse to think ahead, and I diverge. Instead of killing a Varren on the spot, I would track it to its den and kill the whole pack."

"We need to the same with the Contractor goons…" I muttered.

"Spill some blood and we can follow the splatter trail."

xxxx

"What grenades did we have last time?" I asked the Turian dockhand that had been shuttling supplies into the Ortona until I had flagged him down.

"Just frag grenades, sir." He replied, making sure to show respect to a commander.

"Alright, thanks. What else do we have in stock? Anything to deal with biotics?" I asked. Rank was a strange concept to me. I didn't care if I was a higher rank, I would still treat him respect. I still remembered when I was that person, the one scraping up the pieces and trying to do their best at the bottom.

"Well sir, we have dampening grenades. They'll keep a biotic out for thirty seconds. Maybe more."

"Awesome. I want a crate of those loaded up as well."

"Yes sir!"

With that, he went back to shuffling crates, and I took off across the hold, making sure everything was ready to go. When we got the word, I wanted to make it right to Illium.

Across the dock I could hear Torr laying into an empty metal barrel with his buzzaxe, sending it spinning and rattling across the hold, chasing after it, and doing it all over again. I did not understand him sometimes. Most of the time, for that matter.

Sam was near the other end of the dock, working at a work bench with her Doomsday armor. I didn't know what she could possibly have to do, so I went to investigate.

The Doomsday armor operator barely looked over as I approached. "Hey."

"You're sure working hard." I teased.

"Yeah, well…" She began, a short plastic cable between her teeth as she spoke. "I nearly got shanked a couple different times on Zavalon, then again on that freighter. Damn close-range stink."

"The Contractor sure likes knives, huh?"

"Especially those T'Vintha bitches." Samantha shook her head, taking the plastic tie and cinching it down around a bundle of wires that were usually covered by an armor plate. "So, I'm gonna add a bunch more reinforced plates. The power servos will be able to handle it, and I'll be able to tank through more stuff."

"Sounds good." I noted. "In the past two fights, how much more damage could you have taken?"

Sam hummed for a few seconds before responding. "Well, my plating took some pretty good bashing between electrical spikes and taking Revenant fire. Then that mutant scratched at me a few different times. Never broke through to armor, though. So, I could play it a little closer. I'm normally not one to work a tight clutch, but I guess I could learn."

"Just trying to figure out where we're at and how much more damage we can dish out." I explained. "I'm used to playing it close, but if we can be more comfortable… Well, I wouldn't complain."

"You always play it this close?" Sam asked, raising her thin eyebrow at me.

"Used to be way closer. I haven't even lost my kinetics yet."

The blonde girl shook her head, clearly thinking I was insane. And she was probably right. "I guess it's no wonder you ended up dead the first round."

"Well, there were other reasons for that." I pointed out quietly. "Like getting hacked by hostile Reapers."

"Yeah, ok. There's that, but still. You know, beating the odds and all?"

"Sure." I shook my head as I stood there with folded arms, chuckling under my breath. "You know, it's still weird that the Reapers have become such a common term. Back in my day, everyone was a skeptic."

"Are you gonna tell me how you walked uphill to school both ways next?" Sam jabbed.

"In a meter of snow, too." I shot right back.

She was silent for several seconds, shaking her head with dry amusement. "So, back in the day… you used to run on a commando squad?"

"Yeah. Spent nearly two years on the 517th Commando unit." I began, leaning forward on the workbench and staring at an unused joint servo. "It was a lot different then. I was working for a Spectre, rather than being chased down by one."

"And you were a biotic." Sam reminded.

I shrugged grudgingly. "Yeah. There was that. There were four of us on the squad at the time, and only three were biotic."

"Are you serial?" Sam asked, rather unbothered to look up from the plating generator. "So one of the Asari wasn't a biotic?"

"Yeah. She didn't want to use them. Ended up running around with a sniper rifle instead."

"That's weird. I've never met an Asari who didn't use biotics."

"And you've never met anyone as hard-headed as Delina." I countered.

"Fair." Sam admitted. "I imagine that was kind of weird, being the only guy in that squad."

"We were fine. Combat was fine. I wore a helmet and shot people in the face before they could wonder too much. But it was always awkward going places and talking to people. Always the same questions: What are you, where are you from, on and on and on. Most people figured I was some Asari mutant, I guess."

"Huh. But you got along with your squad ok?"

"Yeah, pretty well, actually. I butt heads with Delina all the time, but it was generally in good spirit." I replied, watching Sam as she worked. "So...yeah. You used to be on an Alliance squad?"

"Something like that..." Sam began, setting down her project for a moment as if she needed to clear her head. "I was in a sabotage squad. I think we had a more technical name, but whatever. We were in part of the Reaper War, just on the fringes near the end. Running intel missions, breaking comm jammers, stuff like that. Crazy, crazy time. We got our close calls, too. That was, I dunno, a year or so before I started screwing with TIER satellites."

I chuckled, thinking back to when Jack had mentioned that incident. "And even after that, you joined TIER."

"Yeah, pretty much. I got bored in the Alliance, so I left. More or less without a record."

"You bored here yet?" I asked skeptically. I really didn't like her lack of work ethic. God damn.

"Nope. I wasn't before, and now you're in charge, things are popping. Seriously. It's so awesome to have all this going on. Well, I mean... Yeah. As long as we don't get bagged along the way."

"Yeah…" I agreed. "Let's try to avoid that."

xxxx

It took me some time to track down Jakur. Unlike the rest of the crew, he didn't stick around the docks to cause trouble, and that threw me off. Finally, I realized that he had gone to the firing range. Being our arms specialist, I should have figured that.

I didn't know what the hell he was testing when I showed up, but it seemed to be a massive, prototype sniper. The Batarian would shoulder it, aim, then lower the rifle and adjust it through his omni-tool. Finally, after watching for several seconds, I had to ask, "What is _that_?"

"Huh?" Jakur replied at first, glancing over as if he were surprised I was there. Upon seeing who it was, he seemed to soften; he continued. "Commander. It's a prototype from R&D. A plasma incinerator cannon, man! It's supposed to fire a destabilizing laser, followed by a charge of energy that should turn the target into, well, plasma... or something like it."

"Lemme guess, it doesn't work just yet."

"The groovy thing is: it doesn't backfire. It'd do a lot more than electrocute me if it did." Jakur shook his head, tweaking on the PIC again. "But the timing is all off. The laser doesn't even activate before the capacitors charge and cut power to the initial shot. Then it just falls flat when it should hit hard. They really messed up the timing sequences. Seriously, dude. Their code list is barely salvageable." He paused, then suddenly added. "Sorry for getting all jiggy about it, commander. What can I get done for you?"

"Nothing pressing right now. I just wanted to make sure we were good to go for the next mission."

"Hell yeah, dude. All our current weapons are good to go. I made sure all the general maintenance was done before we got back to the station, and we're stocked with fresh parts. R&D doesn't have anything they can send off-station, though. So no new poppers for a while."

"Well, at least we're ready." I shrugged, a little disappointed as well. I was hoping we could field-test something or another. "Anything else new?"

The Batarian shook his head. "Doesn't look that way. I'm biding time til we hit the road again. Speaking of that... any word on what the next mission might be?"

"With any luck, we'll be heading to Illium to pick up a lead on the Contractor." I explained, hiding my own reservations.

"Holy hell! That would make quick work of this whole deal." Jakur noted, eyes widening for a moment. "What do you think of the deal – I mean, do you think we'll actually get a lead? Something like that could be a real easy trap."

I glanced down range at the still-intact target. I didn't know what to say. I didn't exactly sugar-coat things, but I wasn't about to lie. "I've been at it long enough to know that nothing is ever that easy. There's no way we could take down the Contractor in just a few short missions."

Jakur didn't seem too disheartened. "Well, yeah. I guess you're right. Murphy's Law, man."

"If something can go wrong, it will." I remembered aloud, snorted, and added, "And when you're fighting the Contractor, it'll always go wrong."

"Damn. Maybe I ought to look into getting a set of mecha armor or something. Gear up for a long haul."

"Play to your strengths." I reminded him. "We'll still need someone to deal with ranged fights."

"Yeah, I know. I just need to find something with more bang than the old Viper. She's reliable, but if we start going up against overclocked shields, she's gonna have a rough time keeping up."

"Well, that's one thing the Contractor is good for: designing crazy weapons." I nearly chuckled, even though it wasn't funny at all. Most all of said weapons had nearly killed me at one point or another.

"You know, I keep forgetting you've already experienced all this. Getting to be like groundhog day or what?"

"Too much so." I grumbled.

"At least you've got experience, though." Jakur paused, scratched the side of his head, then continued uncomfortably. "Say, speaking of experience… you don't mind if I ask a question about your old squad, right?"

Well, his presentation did make me hesitant. "Probably not."

"Well, I know ya said you pretty close to all of them."

"Yeah." I confirmed.

"So yeah… I was wondering, uh, how close were you actually?"

"The entire squad was like family." I began, not sure how to word the rest. Not sure if I really wanted to face the rest. "One of 'em, Rana. We ended up together."

"Gotcha. So, how did that come to be?"

"I dunno, really. We just spent time together, worked together, trained together, fought together. It just sort of… happened. I mean, sure, we went on a few things that you could call dates, but they most always ended with us being chased by Contractor goons and blowing shit up. Real romantic." I snorted, thinking back. _Those were the days..._

"Huh."

"Why do ya ask?" I questioned Jakur. Not that I was skeptical, but I was curious of his reasoning.

"Well I was just wondering if I could pick up some advice from you. I've never been good with that sort of thing."

I chuckled dryly and shook my head as I peered over at the Plasma Incinerator Cannon. "Neither have I. I'm really not the one to give any advice on that kind of stuff."

"You've done way better than me." Jakur admitted. "Surely you've got a pointer or two."

"Hell, I don't know. Be honest? Keep communications open?" I shrugged, fully aware that I was spewing bullshit. "Not much more I can tell you. That's a case-by-case deal."

"Alright. Thanks, I suppose."

"Yeah, sorry. I'm not much of help there." I said. "You never had much luck with that sort of thing?"

"Hardly. Zavalon was pretty rough. I mean, we either had spoiled colony kids or pirates. Not the fun kind, either." Jakur shivered. "Then when I got to Illium, I thought things would change for the better. Yeah… I was wrong there. I never could go to the high-class functions, and I couldn't hear anyone in the clubs. So most of the time I just stayed at the firing range. The folk that came by there weren't much in the way of pleasant, if you catch my groove."

"Yeah, I hear ya." I shook my head. "Wasn't much better for me. I grew up in the middle of nowhere on Earth. Pretty much as far away from everything as you can get. For the better part of the year, it was just my folks and me. There were a few more people around in the summer but hell. To them it was just a vacation spot. They didn't stay very long."

Jakur nodded but said nothing more. It seemed as though he was processing what I had said, trying to fit it all together. At last he spoke. "Hey, how come you don't use a sniper rifle? A lot of assassins here at TIER went that route."

His question caught me off-guard. My mind had been elsewhere. It was refreshing to be cognizant of the present. "I dunno. I just always trained for close-range stuff. That, and I had biotics."

"Sure, but I know a lot of Vanguards that run with snipers on their backs." Jakur pointed out.

"Yeah, I'm not sure. It never seemed like something I wanted or needed to include. Plus, getting in there with blades… it's more connected."

"Jive, but you're also a lot more likely to get shot up." Jakur said, then quickly amended. "With due respect, of course."

"I know. It's personal preference. That's all it really comes down to."

"Personal preferences and what strengths you have. I mean, I've always been able to track targets really well. So I kind of had to be a sniper."

"Well, good. Because I doubt Torr or me are gonna pick up a sniper any time soon."

xxxx

My squad was on track and our ship was full. Our weapons were sharp and our senses were clear. We were ready to go back into the maelstrom, stick it to the Contractor until he felt where it really hurt and laid off, but we would not let up, not until we bashed in his network, hunted him down, routed his best defenses, dispatched him, and turned the galaxy back on the right track. I had done it once. I could do it again.

Right?

I rode the elevator up to the lounge, hoping Trinder would be there. Hoped he would have some answers. Maybe even clearance to go to Illium. I was starting to grow fond of the old man. Perhaps the loss of everything that I held close had driven my endearment towards him. It wasn't like I had any other family left.

My hands clasped behind my back and I stared at the floor. I didn't know how long I could hold up as commander, but at least for a little while I could endure. In fact, I was beginning to enjoy it. Perhaps I was not ideal commander material. I probably wasn't. Still I was just a grunt, a blade-wielding trooper driven by rage, vengeance, and a tinge of mania. I was a twenty-one-year-old standing in an elevator with an already worn tank-top and black khakis, wavy brown hair tied back in a tight ponytail that hung to my shoulder blades, mismatched arms, one natural and one bionic, and a cybernetic nervous system that I didn't fully understand. But I had my own squad and was leading an offensive. I wondered if even I knew what kind of war we were getting into.

The elevator door opened. The lounge was the same as it had ever been, black furnishings accenting the polished metal floor that reflected the red of the star outside tall observation windows. I stepped into the open expanse and looked around.

"Hello, my boy." Jack said with a smile. He sat in front of the window, motionless until he rolled forward towards the only furniture in the room. "I suppose you've come to see if you can rush off to Illium, I suppose?"

"Among other things, yes sir." I noted.

"Well! By all means have a seat." He motioned to the sofa as we approached. "In which case, I have both good and bad news. Which would you like to hear first?"

"Let's start with the good." I responded as I sat down on the edge of the leather sofa, forearms pressing against my knees and hands dangling.

"Very well then. The information broker on Illium has been cleared as a legitimate source. He is rather new to the business, but evidently unafraid to take risks. He is expecting to strike a deal with a TIER diplomat. I hope you are willing to fill that role."

"Yes sir." I nodded with certainty. "When can we head out?"

"In a matter of hours, I presume. You simply need to prepare your crew and finish up a few minor details here."

"Then we're ready." I noted, spirits rising until I remembered the other part. "So what's the bad news?"

"Our engineers have been looking over the software traces left on the Ortona by the Spectre that you had the…altercation with." Jack began.

"And?"

"For one, they were quite well done. We had very little to base our traces off of. Whoever wrote those cyberattacks is incredibly proficient and knowledgeable with coding. Secondly, all those traces were dead leads. We still haven't been able to identify this Spectre or any of her squad. She has done a remarkable job of covering her tracks and keeping her identity unknown."

"Well damn." I shook my head. I was disappointed, but also realized I was well out of my element now. I had no idea who Spectres would or could be in this era. "Worth a shot, but hey. I guess I'll just have to keep trying to avoid her for the time being?"

"That would be the wisest course of action, until you are able to decipher her motivations and appeal to her in the most convincing manner possible."

"Alright. I'll see what I can do. I might be able to keep tabs on her. Have her a step or two behind."

"I know you like to fight with the dagger close to your chest, but don't let your defenses down. Her motives are unknown to us, and she is hostile towards you."

"Noted." I agreed. "Thanks for trying to trace her, though. Guess we'll have to do it the hard way now."

"I suppose so, and that is unfortunate considering our connections. Your time could be much better spent on other endeavors."

I shrugged, rather unbothered. I had other issues closer to the front of my mind, closer to falling onto my tongue. "Jack, could I ask a favor of you?"

"Of course, my boy. I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks. Before… Well, before I died, I was a part of a squad. The 517th commando unit. I've scoured the extranet over the past week, and I can't get a single lead on any of the other three members. Could… Do you think you could get more details on them?"

"If you'd like, I can certainly try." Jack said. He sounded like he had reservations. "I don't mean to dissuade you, but many facts simply do not compute. When found in 2157, the Earth relay was cold. The Alliance had to manually open the link."

"It was already shut off in 2012." I pointed out. "So what's your point?"

"My point is, you were designed for a specific purpose. You might have been able to adapt and to learn new ways, but your mind may have... created coping mechanisms."

"Like what?" I pressed, not much liking the way the conversation was going.

"Most commonly, coping mechanisms create imaginary characters in order to keep mental acuity."

"The 517th was real." I growled, making clear it wasn't a subject I was going to compromise on. "And it was disbanded just after I died. That's not coincidence."

"My apologies for the misunderstanding. I did not mean to doubt you. I simply want to warn you that not everything is what it seems. Holding on to a memory like that can be dangerous."

"And it can also be the only reason you're still alive, still fighting, still breathing." I retorted.

We were silent for several seconds. Both of us were tense. Hell, I was jumping out of my seat, ready to go lay down the heat.

"I'll have a tech division look into the whereabouts of your past squad."

"Thanks, Jack. I'm sorry to get defensive, but I know what I know. That wasn't something I could dream up in order to... cope."

"Of course. I simply wanted to warn you of the eventualities. Perhaps we can get some answers and even some allies against the Contractor. Anything else?"

"New Citadel." I suddenly remembered what Sam had been telling me. "How come you didn't tell me that the galactic hub was destroyed?"

Jack lowered his gaze, silent for several seconds, and when he started explaining his voice was quite and rather downtrodden. "The lives lost with the Citadel are still without tally. After all we did to defend that station...it was one of the most devastating failures of the war. You'll have to pardon me if it's not something I would discuss openly."

"Fine." I agreed, realizing I might have been a tad harsh. "Then New Citadel... who's building it?"

"As my understanding, it is a collaboration between the main governments... but has also been slow. Priorities remain elsewhere for the time being. Nothing but a skeletal structure stands." Jack shook his head. "It would have been an undertaking before, but now the prospect of building a station the size of a small planet... naturally it has been sluggish."

"So... are they replicating the old Citadel?"

"Hardly, my boy. The new design resembles an open cylinder. Two surfaces on which they can build. Now that it is not a matter of adapting to a set design, they have the freedom to create a station that fits our needs. Docks for trading, residential districts, centers for each government, a new Presidium."

"But it's far from done."

"Oh, indeed. There is but a frame in place. The details of which I spoke are nothing more than plans on an engineer's hologram." Jack ran a hand along his chin as he stared out the window. "So goes the struggle of recovery. Unfortunately, it doesn't alter our situation or the Contractor threat."

"Yeah. Are we cleared for Illium?"

"Upon your word as a commander." Jack attempted a smile.

"Alright." With a deep breath I rose to my feet. The fight would continue, but it wasn't the same going up against unbeatable odds without the 517th, without Rana, Delina and Kaira. This time, TIER had me. That couldn't have been very comforting. There I was, an ex-commando with an erased history elevated to role of commander trusted with the lives of a squad and a ship, delivered into a fight which death had rendered anew.

"Jack..." I paused as I stood there by the edge of the sofa while I faced the door. "Thanks again."

"Of course, my boy. This may just be our chance to bring the fight to the Contractor's door."

xxxx


	9. A Day Late and a Credit Short

**A/N: Sometimes things go smooth... and sometimes they don't. I ended up putting nearly two day's worth of editing and revision into this chapter, just trying to get the flow and progression right. :/ Normally chapters come together with less fuss, but sometimes they need the extra love.**

**With Chapter Seven, CE2:R broke well over a thousand hits! Thank you all for the continued support, faves, and feedback. I don't want to spoil anything for you, but this story has a first-class ticket to crazyville and the trip just started.**

**xxxx**

_Chapter VIII – A Day Late and a Credit Short_

xxxx

Illium had barely changed. The Tes Andria spaceport, where I had first landed 180 years earlier, had barely changed. Nearly two centuries and a galactic invasion had passed. I had no idea how it could look the same, still as bright, still functioning, still bustling.

But it did.

The Ortona was cleared to dock and soon the four of us, the ground team, were making our way off the ship. Sinister-looking, black-masked troopers. Sam had her Doomsday armor, perhaps the most intimidating of our lot as she lumbered along. The rest of us were armed up with our usual kits. We were taking no chances.

There were no mercs, no peacekeepers, no GTRA protesters to harangue us as we stepped out onto the docks. A few civilians glanced our way, but they kept their distance. I shook my head. I wasn't complaining about the lack of attention, but it was strange to wander around without fuss, without something going wrong.

We made our way across the dockyard. Heading towards the shuttleport, my idea was to lay low and make little ruckus as we traveled the several kilometers to the tower where our information broker had his offices set up. It seemed like it would work.

The shuttle operators regarded us skeptically. Nobody said a word to us, not until I approached the main open desk while the rest of my team stayed by the entrance. A younger-looking Turian was running the place, glancing us over and trying to stay calm best he could. He said nothing as I approached, not until I rested my hands on the desk. "I'm sorry, but due to increased paramilitary threats, our shuttles cannot carry armed soldiers. Or mechs, for that matter."

I glanced around the port for something to go off of, something to prove him wrong. "It's that cut and dry, huh?"

"I'm afraid so. We received direct orders from the Peacekeepers. You can violate their orders on your own accord, but I won't be caught up in it."

"Fine." I conceded. "What other options do we have?"

"Well, the city-level airspace is also closed to any type of gunship. I'm afraid you'll have to stick to your own shuttles or hoverbikes."

_Well, so much for the plan_. I shook my head and stared at the floor for several seconds. I asked, "Is this all because of the Contractor?"

"The who?" The Turian asked. "I don't know why we got the orders. I just follow them."

"You should pay more attention." I grumbled, pushing away from the desk, and before I turned to walk away, added: "It could save your life."

I signaled my squad to move out. We would go to plan B. I didn't need to cause a big scene, not within five minutes of landing on Illium. So the four of us tromped back towards the Ortona without a single word until we reached the airlock of our ship.

"Alright," I was about to suggest that we could all take bikes until I remembered how Torr hated heights. "Torr and Jakur, I want you to stay here and monitor traffic with Jarka. I don't want the Contractor or that Spectre to sneak up on us. Sam, gear up for a lighter mission. Hopefully this is only gonna be deal making, and you won't need the Mecha armor."

"Awww fine…" Sam grumbled, voice modulated by her heavy armor. "I've got assassin armor that I can run. But seriously, let's not make a habit of this, hey?"

"Fair enough." I agreed, then glanced to the other two members of the ground squad as we made it back onto the bridge of the Ortona. "Any other concerns?"

Torr shook his head.

"No sir." Jakur began. "We'll make sure no hoodoo heads your way."

"Jarka!" I yelled towards the cockpit.

"Commander!" He didn't leave his seat.

"Are the hoverbikes ready to go?"

"Yes, they are. I would be careful, though. We only have XH450s, straight from the racing circuits. They were used briefly during the war for scouting units planet-side, then decommissioned. They handle unlike any other vehicles we have."

I laughed to myself. "I learned how to ride on a Z280. I'm sure I'll be fine."

"You had a Z-280?" Jakur suddenly beamed, stuck with a combination of a grin and gaping jaw. "Dude, those are collector's items now! They go for like ten million creds!"

"Well damn. Maybe I shouldn't have crashed so many of them." I joked even though I did feel bad for all of the bikes I had crashed, blown up, or bailed off of. Then I nodded at Sam. It was go time.

xxxx

I slung a leg over the jet black XH450, excitement already kicking in. I had been waiting for a chance to see what the new generation of hoverbikes could do. Already I could tell that it felt different. Whereas the Z280 had looked rather utilitarian, metal callings and basic constriction, these bikes had plastic callings, designed to look sharp and fast with straight lines and sharp angles. Intakes had been designed differently. The bike itself was narrower, lighter, and as soon as I fired it up, the core had lower-pitch growl to it. The thrusters had been tuned to the same pitch, snarling as the bike idled, hovering half a meter from the deck as I watched Sam leap onto her own bike.

I barely recognized the Mecha armor operator in Assassin armor. She looked no different than any assassin, black from head to toe, the weave and plate sneaking-suit style armor covering her up and wiping out her identity. Hell, you could barely tell that she was a woman under the armor. And so, with a pistol on her hip and a shotgun on her back, she fired up her bike, turning to face the open hanger door right alongside me.

Sam glanced over at me and nodded. She revved her bike.

"Let's roll." I hollered over the growl of the two XH450s.

I twisted the throttle back. My weaker left hand was nearly torn off the handlebars as the hoverbike took off, blasting right off the line and almost leaving my stomach behind as I tore out of the cargo bay door. The Ortona, then the dock, quickly fell behind as I accelerated out, bike screaming and just starting to stretch its legs before I whipped it sideways and drifted into a line of shuttles and transport trucks going to the left. East.

"_Hey, uh yeah..." _Sam began, sounding admonishing even over the radio_. "I don't particularly wanna die today, so... I'll keep up by HUD nav. Try not to smear yourself into a shuttle, k?"_

I chuckled at Sam's radio chatter as I coasted between two civilian hovercars, probably earning dirty looks from the both. I didn't know. They had mirrored glass windows. "Alright. I'll meet you there, then."

With that, I settled in to really see what the XH450 could really do. Tucking my head down, pressing my chest into the calling, and squeezing the bike with my legs, I was about to take off when I heard the blip of peacekeeper's siren behind me. For a moment, I hesitated, glancing back through the gridlock of hovercars, at the white and blue shuttle that had its red and blue lights flashing. A few hovercars cleared out of the way, gave a clear line of sight between the peacekeepers and me. I turned towards the air ahead. Started to laugh.

Finally time to see what the bike would do. As I rolled all the way onto the throttle, the XH450 screamed to full life, noise from the eezo core and thrusters increasing, but the pitch still staying low right until the very end when the afterburners fired with a higher shriek. The cars around me started to blur together, blitzing past just as fast as I could make them out. Everything was fucking blurry. Everything except the HUD right under my eyes and the handlebars of the bike that I clung to.

No effort was made to slow down, either. I was still steadily increasing my clip. The XH450 didn't seem to mind either; it wasn't starting to wobble or complain, in fact it seemed happier at an absurd pace than it did at a slow one.

I darted between two trucks, a gap just centimeters wider than the hoverbike. The wind pulled me back violently, damn near ripping me off the bike a second time before I blasted out of the narrow confines.

The bike was still gaining speed. I wanted to push it all the way, but I knew I had to start paying attention or I would miss my turn. As fun as it would have been to rip around Illium and raise hell, I had a job to do. An important one, at that.

From the few momentarily glances I dared to take at the small, colored map of the streets and surrounding areas in the lower right corner of my vision, we were – or rather, I was – getting close to the info broker's tower. Only a few blocks and a few turns to go. With that in mind, I laid off of the gas for a moment, time enough to slip out to the edge of the traffic stream and scope out where I needed to turn.

It was a hard right turn into a traffic stream that between two tight towers, in the gap between two bridges conjoining the two white buildings. There wasn't much room in any direction. No room for error.

I slammed on the brakes as I got right before the turn, then dove out of the first traffic stream, nosing the bike down, leaning most of the way over, and coasting into the corner. Oh, and I cut it close to the inside corner, the building, nearly scraping into the well-kept wall before making it out of the apex of the corner, getting back on the gas, and pressing my way into the second traffic stream. I had lost a fair amount of speed going through the corner, but I was still going at least twice the speed of normal traffic.

Two more blocks passed by in a matter of seconds. Then I had to dive into the traffic stream, fighting my way in from the right and crossing to the left, to the next corner I needed to turn at. I narrowly missed a truck as I first merged, then almost crashing into the back of a hovercar before I scrubbed off some speed and weaved between the first car and a second. Then I had clear shot. The bike wound out again, blasting me from the traffic.

I was gaining elevation, still on the gas, before I reached the parking bay. Then I threw on the binders, drifting sideways and up, trying to slow down enough to make it into the roofed bay.

I coasted in to park.

An Illium peacekeeper was standing nearby. An Asari with an M-8 assault rifle, the only other person in the port. She watched me questioningly as I stepped off the bike and cracked my neck, but said nothing. No guessing what her reasoning was. Maybe I looked professional enough. Maybe she didn't want a fight. As long as she let me be, I didn't care too much.

I shook my head as I walked along the edge of the U-shaped port, a roof extending over the whole thing, while the floor fell away perhaps to give shuttles more room to maneuver. Five hundred meters down, there was an industrial loading dock. I strolled along, hands clasped behind my back, as I waited for Sam. I had only been at the docks for a few seconds, and I knew she would take much longer. So there I stood, right there on the edge where I could see all the traffic on the street ahead.

Only a minute later and Sam pulled up on her XH450, sliding to a stop next to my parked bike and leaping off, staggering away on the deck, panting and shaking her head. "Why? Why on earth did you have to go that fast? I said I was going to catch up, but seriously?"

The Asari peacekeeper watched us with a raised brow.

I chuckled darkly as she caught her breath. "Glad to see you too."

"It's not funny, commander!" She insisted, still panting as we moved out. "I nearly got smeared by several different trucks and a shuttle! And I was actively trying to be careful!"

"Well, I would say it worked. You made good time, and you're still in one piece."

She let out a frustrated growl. "Never mind the fact that I've only been on a bike for few hours in my entire life."

"I'd be glad to give you pointers." I offered, shrugging as I began to stroll towards the exit and let the other human catch up.

"No." Sam snapped as she walked around, seeming extra edgy without her Doomsday armor. "Once I get more hours behind the bars, I'll totally have it."

"We can also do that. Maybe after we pick up this intel we can go for a practice ride?"

The Doomsday armor operator's shoulders slumped forward as if she had been defeated, yet she still walked right beside me. "I didn't – Fine. We can do it your way."

"What? It was just an offer." I pointed out as we made our way through the door out of the parking port and onto a small, well-landscaped plaza. Full planters all about.

"I know, but…" Sam trailed off as she looked about.

I couldn't blame her. The plaza was centered between four towers, a fountain with a sculpture of the Asari Goddess Athame right in the middle. All around there were well-kept red flowers. With the sun overhead for the time being, it was quite the scene.

"Well damn... I've been out with TIER too long. I kinda forgot there's places this nice. Gotta say I missed it." Sam shook her head as we continued forth. Our tower was on the far side of the plaza, two-hundred meters away.

"I'm surprised it wasn't more torn up during the war." I commented.

"There's a lot of money here, Forrest. Illium got hit just as hard as some of the other worlds, but here…pockets are crazy deep. Twisted as it is, they bought a recovery effort outdid the homeworlds with speed and scale. You totally wouldn't have recognized it during the war, whole planet being sacked and all. I guess some cities got hit harder than others, but ya know, the only place you can see the shambles are the badlands to the west of the city."

"The badlands?"

"Wow, you totally haven't stayed current, have you gramps?"

"Hey, I just woke up from a hundred'n'eighty year nap. I haven't caught up with everything yet, and I'm still grumpy." I warned jokingly.

"Right, I keep forgetting that. Cuz you seem so normal otherwise." Sam shook her head and probably rolled her eyes behind her assassin mask. "So yeah, the Badlands are the trashed areas of Illium where they couldn't even start to recover the damage. There's nothing left there but ruins. The Reapers had the area humped, and then bandits and mercs moved in, so it's even worse now."

"Charming place."

"Oh yeah."

We were silent for the rest of the trip across the plaza. Sam was probably still disgruntled about the hoverbike ride, and I was busy looking about.

It seemed like a peaceful day there on Illium. Busy as ever, but nothing terrible seemed to be happening. No shootouts, no paramilitary invasions, no Reaper wars. It was a just a sunny, relatively warm day with a few people milling about. A mercenary here or there, most of whom I did not recognize, a privateer off by himself. A few businessmen and women talking in front of the fountain. Another peacekeeper scolding a young Human boy for throwing credit chits into the fountain.

"Last time I came to Illium was before the War." Sam began. "My mom drug me along to pick up these special omni-tools. Honestly I don't really remember what they were. The only thing to stick in my mind from that trip was this Turian Peacekeeper. He couldn't have been much older than me at the time, but he sure was cute."

I nodded silently. Another Peacekeeper, a human in her late thirties had taken notice of the two armed, high-tech assassins that were wandering across the plaza. She didn't raise an immediate alarm, but I could tell she was coming to investigate.

"Hey, I think there's an omni-tool showroom nearby. What do you say we go take a look?" Sam proposed.

I didn't break pace as I replied. "Now's probably not the best time."

"Aww…" She protested. "Fine."

We had reached the tower. Mirrored glass doors slid out of the way as we approached, revealing a minimal, cleanly decorated lobby that was empty except for one Turian businessman sitting in the lounge to the left but he was distracted as he talked at his omni-tool and did not notice us. The elevator was ten meters ahead, and I did not slow until I reached the white metal door and summoned the lift. Then I stole a glance over my shoulder.

The peacekeeper was a ways outside, still passively pursuing Sam and me. Apart from her, there were no other threats. I took a deep, albeit uneasy, breath as I turned back to the waiting elevator and stepped on.

"196th floor, right?" Sam asked as her hand hovered over the haptic interface.

"Yeah." I said, glancing to the holo above the door that indicated our current floor, 90, then looking back out into the lobby. The peacekeeper was just entering through the sliding glass doors as the elevator doors shut, sealing her off from my sight.

There was only one elevator.

"Maybe we can go to the omni-tool showcase later." Sam sighed. "Some of the new model Tevian tools have an entirely new architecture that's supposed to make them 20% more power efficient."

"We'll see how this goes." I deflected her request best I could. I didn't like making decisions like that, where either answer could come back to bite me in the ass and leave the other person hanging.

Level 120. I shook my head. The lift was fast, but had to travel a ways. It was a 200-story building. I would hate to have to use the stairs, especially when my legs still hated me for all the stress I put on them in the last weeks in a desperate attempt to get my strength back.

"So, what is the plan?" Sam asked.

Several worst-case scenario situations flashed through my mind. Mercs attacking, the Spectre tracking us down. That would be worse case, though, and I would leave it at just that. "Well, we get in, talk to this broker, try and bargain a deal and spend as few credits as possible, and get out."

"Sounds simple enough. Should I let you do the talking?"

"Let's start out that way. If need be, you can step in and we can team up on him."

"Gotcha. Do we need to get rough with him?"

"Hopefully not."

"K. Some of them like it rough anyway."

"Right..."

Level 180.

"Well then…" Sam began. Even under the slight voice modulation and blank faceplate of the assassin armor she seemed unsure. "Let's hope this goes well."

"Agreed." I muttered as the lift slowed down. We were almost there. I was starting to get nervous. I had experience fighting, slicing people up and shooting bandits down. Now that I had to broker a business deal, buying information that could mean the difference between life and death for thousands of people across the galaxy, that could mean cutting a war short before it got ugly, I wasn't sure if I could actually do it. I swallowed down what doubt I could as the door opened and I stepped into wide, well-lit white hallway.

I sent a quick glance to the left, making sure we were clear then began down the hallway to the right. There was only the HUD inside my Assassin mask for me to go off of, as it had all of the locations in my immediate proximity.

Several meters down the otherwise empty hallway, two gruff-looking Turians stood in medium orange armor emblazoned with a black circular 'E.' Both had Vindicator battle rifles on the ready.

"Enclave mercs." Sam whispered to me.

I nodded slowly as we approached them. They were definitely guarding our information broker. I was several meters away from them when the radio went off in my mask. Jarka.

"_Commander, you may have a problem on your hands in the very near future. I just picked up dock chatter, and the AMF Retryna has docked several clicks away from your location. They've sent a shuttle, and it appears to be heading your way."_

Sam and I exchanged glances as if to say 'oh shit.'

I replied to Jarka quick. "Ok. We'll try to get this done and get out. Make sure the Ortona is ready to clear dock."

We had paused, but the Turian mercs finally decided to take notice of our arrival and one called out, "Hey! You two – what's your business here?"

I explained slowly. "I'm here on behalf of Jack Trinder and Terminus Intelligence, Enforcement and Recon. I have a meeting with Tyric."

"TIER…" The other Turian muttered. "Yeah, that was on the roster for today. There are more guards inside, so don't try and pull any funny business."

"I'm here for serious business only."

The two Turians moved out of the way, allowing us access. I was about to step forward.

An explosion. By the sound and feel of it, it was just on the other side of the door. In the office with the information broker. Gunfire broke out right away. Screams.

The two Turian guards stared at Sam and I for a moment as if they didn't know what to do. Then they rushed in, turning their backs on us. The Doomsday armor operator glanced at me. A moment later we were drawing our shotguns and charging into the smoke and flames.

There was a second's delay before my replicated view adjusted inside my assassin mask, reconfiguring itself for the hazy conditions.

It looked like a missile had crashed into the office from the outside window. Most of the Enclave mercs had been taken out in the initial blast, and those who survived were only gunned down. Behind a smoldering desk and outside of a shattered window that used to rise from floor to ceiling, a grey and red gunship was just pulling away, two troopers dragging an unconscious Turian into the cargo bay before it yawed away.

"Get back here, god dammit!" I screamed as I sprinted towards the window framed by shards of glass, sliding to a stop at the very edge and firing at the gunship with my shotgun. It was pointless as I railed off several shots from the Shredder; the gunship's shields were far too strong for basic small arms.

Snarling and shoulders heaving, I stood there on the edge of the 196 story window and watched the Contractor gunship flying away. Flying away with our only lead on the Contractor himself. I was trembling, knuckles white as I clung onto the shotgun. I barely noticed as Sam came up by my right and the two surviving mercs to the left. The four of us looked out in vengeful silence. I had failed a mission. Sam had too. The Turians had failed their job of protecting the information broker.

We had all failed and the Contractor had won without even showing us a single card from his hand.

"Fuck!" I yelled again, kicking a spray of loose glass into the air for no other reason than to vent off my frustration.

"Spirits…" One of the Turians began.

"That's… that's not the Contractor, is it?" The other asked.

"We were too slow…" I snarled as I watched the gunship grow smaller and smaller, two more even joining up before they all disappeared around a corner a kilometer away.

"Uh, Commander…" Sam began hesitantly, pointing down to the plaza nearly 500 meters below. I followed her gaze to the shuttleport exit on the plaza below.

Five figures in grey armor with yellow accents. The Spectre and her crew. Must've docked next to our hoverbikes, coming to the same scene, as they were sprinting across the plaza towards us. I doubted she could see me in the smoke, but the Spectre was staring right at us. Vindictive. She knew there was blame to be burdened.

The day kept getting worse.

The Spectre and her commandos were cut off by three Contractor shuttles. Unlike the Spectre, there was no doubt whose side the grey and red shuttles were on.

I crouched down and rested my bionic hand on the window frame, adjusting the sensors in my helmet so I could hear part of their interactions and observe the situation as it unfurled. If the Spectre worked for the Contractor, I knew what would have to happen. If she was hunting him down… well, that was more complicated. I watched.

Three Contractor shuttles. The first two were just a mixture of troopers and a few assassins, but the third, the third carried the three people I least wanted to see and most wanted to kill. Mender and the T'Vintha sisters.

The Spectre came to a halt, her squad falling into formation behind her as the Contractors blocked the way. They had a bloody showdown. Five commandos against fifteen or twenty Contractor troops and the Trouble Trio.

"What is your business here?" The Spectre growled, signaling her team to arm up and hold their ground.

Mender laughed. It was that same, blood-lusting laugh as before as he drew his M-76, spun it around, and then snapped the barrel at the Commando squad. "I question you the same. Spectre don't got no bit here."

"Neither do you have clearance to operate gunships and attack civilian operations."

"Now, now." Mender taunted as he strolled side-to-side, keeping his distance from the commandos. "We just keeping the peace. Wouldn't want sensitive information to fall into the hands of rogue paramilitary groups like TIER."

I tensed. Anger was choking out my common sense, but I was still panicking. If Mender got the Spectre on his side…

The Spectre's biotics flared. "Do not commiserate me. I am fully aware of what your organization is and why you are here. Perhaps you should have chosen your allies more carefully… before they too wish to destroy you."

Mender grumbled something, then bellowed "Attack!"

There was a clash between the two forces. Biotics, grenades, and gunfire rang out on the plaza. I watched for only a second before turning to Sam, who was kneeling beside me. I asked, "You bring your ODS setup?"

"Um, yeah. All assassin armor has it..." The young human replied.

"Good." I was too distracted to take offense at her pretension, standing up and stepping forward so that my toes hung over the edge. Back on the Ortona I had thought it was strange to have the fall protection integrated into our armor, but I was sure glad to have it then. I glanced over to the Turian mercs. "Good luck to ya."

"Hey, wait a sec –" One began.

I didn't hear him as I leapt out from the window and began to plunge.

Synthetic adrenaline kicked in as I began to plunge towards the plaza. My vision narrowed; time slowed. I fell with my feet down, arms and legs straight and the gap was shrinking. I could tell that I wasn't going to have a clear landing. I didn't want a clear landing. I wanted to smash right into Mender, and I was on the right course for that.

With a hundred meters to go, my senses were in overdrive, honing in specific details and focusing on those details until everything else blurred. I could make out specific hairs in Jason Mender's greasy mohawk before my ODS fired, a trill whine that lasted just moments before impact, hardly long enough for me to brace and for him to look up.

My boots smashed into his face. We went down in a crumpling heap, him falling face forward and me falling back, landing on my side, barely catching myself and scrambling back to my feet. The human tank, with blood dripping from his face, was slower to rise and that bought me time. The T'Vintha sisters were responding to my entrance, but I was on to their tricks and fucking games. I already had two dampening grenades primed and in each hand. One for each sister.

Tayra and Viola staggered back from the blast, then seemed to panic as they realized their biotics were rendered inactive.

"Sam, keep those adepts off me!"

"You got it, commander!" The temporary Assassin rushed past me and drew a tech sword as she went after the T'Vintha sisters.

I drew my tech blades from my forearms. That left Mender and me.

It was fucking chaos all around us, the commandos had engaged the rest of the Contractor forces, and Sam and I were caught somewhere in the middle. The eye of the storm.

Mender rose to his feet as though rage was burdening him down, twitching his head a few times as he holstered the light machinegun and drew his own tech blade. The claymore. "Knew you couldn't resist a fight, little fish."

"I don't like being snubbed." I activated my two katanas and spun them around once. "Not when I'm so close."

"Get used to it." Mender jeered. "You die first, then the rest of TIER!"

He rushed right at me with his blade drawn back. He didn't restrain himself, evidently, coming right out of the gate with a power attack.

There was shouting from the Spectre. Ordering her commandos to focus on the Contractor troops.

I waited for Mender, crouching and then ducking sideways at the last minute, slicing both of my blades into his side as I rushed past to avoid his sword. Once I was out of range I turned back. Two lines of red ran along his side as he recovered and turned to face me. This time he lumbered forward, still holding his sword in both hands. Trying to get me to attack.

I kept backing up, both of my blades on the ready. I could keep baiting him all day, but I knew I didn't have much time until the T'Vintha sisters were back in the game. I was watching Mender, charting each movement, looking for weaknesses. I didn't see the metal katana materialize in the hands of a cloaked assassin behind me. I only heard the blade slicing through the air.

I spun around, parrying with my right blade, since that arm was stronger, and then stabbing her with my left blade. It was a quick dispatch, but no sooner than I had drawn both of my blade back did Mender smash his shoulder into me and send me careening across the deck.

My intention was to roll out of it, but I crashed into another cloaked Contractor assassin and we went down in a heap. I kneed her in the neck, making sure she wouldn't trouble me ever again, before having to leap back as Mender launched a downward swing. The tip of his claymore skipped along my chestplate, activating the kinetic plating to absorb damage before I got out of the way and his sword sliced full-force into his downed ally.

Mender didn't care. I glanced over at Samantha as she gave the deactivated adepts hell. Despite the fact that there were two of them, they only had ornate daggers. Sam had a tech sword. She was not only keeping them at bay, but driving them back with each swing closer to breaching their defenses.

I had to duck as Mender swung at my head. For such a big person with such a big sword, he was nimble. I barely had time to strike forward, slash his chest with my right blade and get out.

No, it was me who was too slow. I didn't get out of range before he swung back around and the sword dug into my back. The impact alone sent me flying, crashing into a long, meter-tall planter. My faceplate crashed through the porcelain, dirt and red flowers flew everywhere. Through the madness, I realized I was in trouble.

My kinetic plating was at 1% of integrity. If I took so much as a punch, it would give out.

I scrambled back onto my feet as fast as I could, shaking the crap off of my faceplate, then vaulting backwards over the broken planter, trying to distance myself from Mender. I still had both of my blades. With both, I was able to stop a vertical power attack as he jumped over the planter after me.

We were stuck in a stalemate. He was crushing down with the single sword, and I was just strong enough to keep blocking the attack. As we were there, snarling and nearly face-to-face, I realized I had done a number by landing on him. I could see the remains of his orbital socket poking out from his skin. There wasn't any more blood than before.

To think I had only made him mad.

"You done for, little fish." The human tank growled.

That had yet to be seen. The fight had died around us, Contractors scattered across the plaza. Only a few guns were firing. Sirens could be heard in the distance, peacekeeper hovercars rushing in to assist the Spectre most likely. No, I could still win.

I heard the distinctive distortion of biotics charging, the _WWWWHOMP_ sound of a throw hitting its target. A moment later a black-armored assassin flew, screaming all the while, over the mess of the fight and hitting the deck with a thud that immediately silenced the panicked cry.

"Sam!" I yelled, sloughing Mender's blade off to one side and then rushing past him with my tech skates active. I was able to cover twenty meters in a snap, then vaulted over and mostly crashed through a planter before I could see my fellow TIER assassin sprawled out on the ground.

Motionless.

I dropped to the side of my left leg and slid to a stop then rolling her onto her back and immediately checking for vitals. There was no way in hell I was going to lose a squadmate.

She still had a heartbeat and was breathing. "Sam! Get up!" I cursed, shaking her shoulders once. She didn't respond. I yelled her name again, shook her even more vigorously. She stirred, weakly trying to shield herself.

"C-commander… S-sorry..."

"Now's not the time. Back on your feet now!" I didn't give her much choice as I grabbed her hand and yanked her back upright. The temporary Assassin was unstable on her feet, but she stood nonetheless. We were a meter in front of the shuttle dock door.

I glanced over my shoulder. Mender and the T'Vintha sisters were approaching, strolling towards Sam and me with lethal confidence. I looked back to the Doomsday armor operator. She was in no condition to fight. "Sam… I need you to get back on your bike and get back to the Ortona right now."

"I'm good, commander. I can still fi-" She started to protest.

"That's an order." With a final nod I turned to face the trouble trio. I heard Samantha back away, then break into a run for her hoverbike.

I reactivated both of my tech blades, taking a neutral stance and holding my ground in front of the door with both blades extended behind me. My allies were gone. My kinetic plating was inactive. Me against the bloody brute of a Human and his two whore counterparts. If that wasn't enough, I glimpsed the five Asari commandos regrouping further out in the plaza. Nothing was in my favor.

"You just had to play the hero, didn't you?" Viola asked, bare right hand poised on her hip.

"Let me tell you something." Tayra picked up where her sister had left off, arms folded with her armored hand resting against her cheek. "Heroes never win."

"I crush skull in." Jason beamed, delighted as he holstered his tech blade and cracked his knuckles together. I braced myself, adjusting my grip on each of my Katanas.

There was no way I could brace against stasis. Tayra hit me with the mass effect field, locking me in place and leaving me unable to move a millimeter, completely vulnerable as Mender approached. I should have expected them to play dirty. Hell, that was all they did so far. I was resigned to watch the human brute approached with his massive hands open and reaching for my head. He was going to make good on his threat.

There was a blast. It must have been a grenade from the commandos, or perhaps a missile from the incoming Peacekeeper hovercars.

It bought me seconds as Mender spun and reassessed the situation. Without another glance back at me, he bellowed at the T'Vintha sisters: "Out of here now! Get in the gunship!"

The stasis field broke and I collapsed on to the deck, falling to my hands and knees as I watched the three Contractors high-tailing it toward the edge of the plaza. And right then… A Contractor gunship rose into view. An A-61 with a nose-mounted minigun. It opened fire, spraying the entire plaza with accelerated metal shavings.

The commandos and peacekeepers were forced into what cover they could find. I started sprinting towards the shuttle port and towards my waiting hoverbike. It was only four meters to the door. To cover.

I felt my right leg collapse under my weight before I felt the searing blast that tore through my thigh. It was over. I let out a pained scream as I went down, spinning as I toppled over my suddenly unresponsive leg and slammed into the deck on my back. I scrambled over onto my stomach, holstering both of my tech blades and trying to get my arms and good leg under me so I could crawl forward.

I knew I had taken a minigun shaving to the leg. I didn't know how bad it was. All I could feel was the pain radiating through my entire leg, spiking every time I pulled myself forward. All I could hear was shavings flying over my back. They were too close. If I took a single hit to my core, I would be done. I focused on dragging myself through the door, into safety.

Little by little I drug myself along the dock, staying as low as possible. Finally I reached the cover of the dock. I could still hear the accelerated shavings tearing into everything around me, pinging off of metal and tearing through planters outside, but they wouldn't be able to target me, much less hit me. I lay there, forehead pressed into the metal deck as my teeth clenched together and I pounded the bottom of my fist into the metal over and over again to try and dull the pain.

Several seconds had passed before I realized the minigun fire had ceased. I yanked my head up from the deck, for a moment relieved.

Another wave of panic. I needed to get out of there. The Spectre was still there and she wanted to arrest or dispatch me. Either was bad and I wasn't sure which was worse. With a new surge of adrenaline powering me, and medigel seeping into my leg I heaved myself up onto my left leg and hopped along the left side of the U-shaped dock and towards my XH450.

"Fucking _hell_." I blurted between clamped teeth; each hop sent my right leg to seize up and burn. I glanced over my shoulder momentarily, long enough to see the smear of red blood where I had drug myself along the floor, then droplets from where I had began to hop.

Escape.

The hoverbike gave me something to focus on besides the pain. Using my arms for support and balance, I hopped forward with my left foot, drug my right, braced, then did it again.

Only three meters to go. The proximity was intoxicating. I was so fucking close. I couldn't fail. Not now. Not again. With a pained grunt, I pushed myself to move the last few meters, right leg getting to be increasingly heavy with each hop.

"You are not going anywhere!"

I barely saw the blur of grey and yellow over my shoulder before the Spectre tackled me and decked me out f. We hit the metal floor just two meters from my bike, and we went down in a hectic, tussling heap.

She was on top, and she knew what she was doing. Immediately she went for my right wrist, twisting it back over my head and to the deck. For a normal person, the motion would have damaged their arm and forced them to lie perfectly still with their face in the deck.

Fortunately, my bionic arm rotated in ways that human organic arms generally couldn't. The surprise was evident even behind the skull-emblazoned faceplate as I hooked her with my left fist. Right in the ribs. It sent her back just enough that I could get my left leg in, kick her away and try to leap up.

The Spectre stayed in the fight, holding onto my wrist all the while and when I tried to break away, she popped my arm back in a manner that should have dislocated it once more. Instead, I was able to use the momentum to pull myself around and bash into her once with my left shoulder, break her grasp on my wrist and slam her into the wall.

I scrambled, or rather hopped then limped away from her, trying to take the opportunity to flee without further fuss. "Spectre, please – we're both after the Contractor here!"

"Don't sympathize with my allegiances." She snapped her head, cleared her mind, and headed right back after me. "I know your ploys too well."

"Don't…" I realized my words were falling on deaf ears. As she came at me again, I dropped a hand to my utility belt, grabbing the right tool for the job and then shut off my assassin mask interfaces before throwing myself towards her blindly.

Impact. I felt as I slammed into the Asari Spectre shoulder-first. Another crack as the flashbang went off, deafening even within my armor. A moment later I heard her scream over the ringing in my ears.

My HUD and sensory inputs switched back on. We were both lying in a heap, but the Spectre was incapacitated as she clutched the sides of her helmet. She'd no way to prepare for the point-blank flash.

I backed away best my left leg would allow, realizing I had laid the Spectre out because I couldn't think of another way from the wreck. She might have been against the Contractor, but I also gave her a hurting reason to hunt me down. All so that I could run away.

I did just that, I turned on my heel and fell onto my hoverbike, the XH450 roaring to life as I slumped into the calling and blasted off. The rest of the commandos were making their way onto the dock behind, one raising her rifle my direction, another dropping to a knee next to their fallen commander. Seemed distinctively as though she called out the name '_Tyva'_ as I blasted down, out of sight and into traffic.

My vision was blurring, my grip was weakening. It was only then, as I was diving haphazardly between cars, that I heard my radio. I had no idea how long I had been ignoring it. _"Commander?! Come in, commander!"_

"I copy you, Jarka." I managed between clenched teeth.

"_Peacekeepers were closing down on us - we had to bail dock! We're closing in your position as we speak… you need to gain elevation and fast!"_

"Copy." I yanked the bike up and broke out from the flow of traffic. "Plan on getting out of this city as soon as possible. We... we don't have any friends here."

The skyscrapers were almost behind me. I could see a faint dot on the horizon that was likely the Ortona. I was counting on that being the case. At the current rate, our trajectories would line up.

I wasn't in immediate danger any more. The adrenaline was dying off, and with it went my only way to overcome the pain of a minigun shaving having torn through my leg. I clung to the bike, knowing I was on the verge of blacking out or going into shock.

The Ortona was closing in. I tried to stay stable best I could, line up with the open cargo bay door facing me.

Everything fell into place. I dropped the bike onto its side just as the Ortona approached, sliding across the cargo hold floor in a shower of sparks. Then I slammed into the wall.

Lights out.

xxxx


	10. IVI474

**A/N: Sorry for the delayed update, folks. I was on the road last week, and regular update tiem came around and I found myself away from computer or internets. So, a bit late, but Chapter Nine is here and updates should resume on the usual schedule... hopefully. :P**

**Cheers!**

**xxxx**

_Chapter IX - IVI474_

xxxx

I must have been coming around, adjusting to fuzzy surroundings and hazy senses. It was an awful feeling, knowing something had gone wrong not being able to tell quite sure what. I propped myself on my right elbow and tried to figure out where I was.

The Ortona, my ship, didn't have a med-bay past the storage room by the end of the mess hall. Still delirious, I could tell I was alone. Probably for the better. I groaned as I sat up, wincing as I ran a hand over my right thigh. I had ended up back in my casual wear, but I could feel bandages underneath the black pants. I sat there for a minute and assessed my condition. My leg didn't feel broken. It was probably just a muscle injury. In which case…

I swung my legs off of the bed and attempted to stand. My injured leg protested, but held my weight. I winced as I took several steps, limping all the way. I could walk. That was good enough. My mind began to race, and remember that I had sent Sam off on her own. With any luck, she had made it back to the Ortona before me. I kicked my ass in gear to go check.

Stairs turned out to be a fucking nightmare, and I was just barely able to hobble down them before breaking into a sweat and cursing profusely. Still, I made it to the lower deck of the ship and headed towards engineering.

The doors slid open. Sam was standing there in front of a desk and actually working. She glanced back at me, started to smile, and then turned away from her work. "Hey hey. Back on your feet crazy fast."

"Glad to see you made it back in one piece." I took a deep breath. We had made it out."You alright?"

"Surest thing. I was able to get back to the Ortona a minute before it lifted dock. You… bought me time." She shook her head and laughed softly. "You're super crazy. So, like what were you trying to prove exactly?"

I scratched the back of my head as I stood there in the open doorway. "I wanted to get you out of there safe, and I didn't know what else to do…"

"Well, next time let me stay and fight. I'd much rather that than having to patch you up."

"Thanks for that, by the way." I commented. "And next time, I'll make sure you've got your Doomsday armor."

"That would also be nice." Sam gleamed. She didn't seem very upset. "Also, you brought this back with you."

She tossed me a small, grey metallic disk that was flat on one side, almost sticky. I turned it over in my hands for several moments before figuring out what it was. "A tracking beacon."

"You guessed it. I think it's that Spectre's work. It doesn't match Contractor tech." She paused, perhaps seeing my unease. "Don't worry, I deactivated it right away and even took out the power core. It's just scrap metal now. I didn't know if you wanted to keep it as a memento."

"I'll pass, thanks." I scowled as I tossed the tracker into a nearby trashbin.

"Suit yourself. And I don't mean to be the bearer of bad news, but… Jack wanted you to call him as soon as you were capable."

"I should probably take care of that."

"Probably."

xxxx

I flexed my leg uncomfortably as I leaned against the inactive holo-projector. I knew what I needed to do; call Jack and explain we had failed, that I had nearly died, and we were right back to square one. Fuck, I didn't want to face that.

Not now, as my head hung low and my hair fell over my face. I was bitter, resentful. I wasn't sure of what. The Contractor was almost a constant, something to direct my hatred towards. I could feel my bionic fingers digging into the metal of the table as I thought about it more. No, what I was feeling now was something else, and no matter how hard I tried I could not put my finger on it. Perhaps it was guilt riding up me, self-doubt eroding the truth that I was leading a good cause.

I raised my right arm, activating my omni-tool. I had the Spectre's address, at least from the Retryna. I could write her right then and there, try to work things out. My left hand hovered over the 'compose' dialogue. Then, for reasons I didn't understand and refused to attribute to cowardice, I lowered my hand. I couldn't face her.

I knew I would come to regret that decision.

Instead, I keyed a call in to Trinder at the TIER HQ and transferred it to the holo-projector. I lowered my omni-tool and brushed my hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ears best I could and drawing a breath in until my ribs hurt. Nobody had ever said that being a commander would be easy, but I never understood how soul crushing it actually was. The day in, day out… I could escape by working on my armor. No matter how hard I tried.

"_Greetings, my boy."_ Jack said as soon as his yellow recreation appeared above the projector table. _"I'm relieved to see you are still standing."_

"Trinder." I saluted, probably doing a poor job of hiding my slumped shoulders and weakened leg. "I guess Samantha told you how the last mission went."

"_Briefly. She didn't elaborate on many of the details."_ Jack replied.

"Right. So you know the Contractor got the info broker first."

He nodded.

"And that we ran into Mender and the T'Vintha sisters." I continued.

Again he nodded.

"And that I got hit by a minigun bullet then had a run-in with the Asari Spectre."

"_Sam did not mention that last part."_ Jack noted.

"Well." I began, looking down. "I nearly got away from the fight before she came after me. Took me down and tried to fight. I… ended up stunning her with a flash grenade so I could run."

"_Such are the choices we make. I'm sure her injuries will heal. The bruised pride, however… I would advise you take extra caution with her in the future. She will not be so lenient after letting you escape a second time."_

"Yeah."

Jack continued. _"I understand your wish to forge an alliance with this Spectre, but at this time it does not seem like a wise move."_

I nodded in agreement. "She's not working with the Contractor. I know that much. But she certainly isn't on our side yet. Now she really won't be."

"_Very well… if you believe that, so be it."_ Jack paused, then broke out on another train of thought. _"I hate to break this to you, but we were only marginally able to rebuild your body last time. It took two years and more credits than even I can fathom. In other words... death is not a viable option, my boy."_

I nodded slowly. "I don't intend on dying again. I just need to find my new limits. I can't push myself like I used to. I don't have biotics, or a squad that's stronger than me."

"_I pray that you may learn soon. This is only your third mission and you nearly rang the bell several times."_

"I'm still having a hard time getting used to commanding a unit." I said. I knew I had made mistakes. _Why did I break the squad up? And for fuck's sake, why did I have to get into that mess with the Trouble Trio? I should have ran then._

"_I understand. At the very least, I am glad you were able to make it out alive and only sustain minor injuries."_

Getting my thigh ripped open didn't seem like a minor injury to me. Then again, the shaving had missed the bone. So it was relatively minor, considering all possible outcomes.

"_All I'm asking is that you be more careful, Forrest."_

"Understood, sir."

xxxx

There was some time to spare before we headed back out into the field. For me, it was mostly time to let my leg heal and build muscle everywhere else. The invention of medigel sped up the first; the second I still had to do the old-fashioned way.

There was also time to tour the ship and see how people were doing. I had already checked with Jarka. He was unfazed by the chaos surrounding us, not at all worried that the Ortona had nearly been compounded at Tes Andria. He had laid low, let all the fuss pass over, then went to a different spaceport. He saw it all as a good challenge, training for battles to come.

For the time being, I made my way to the subdeck. I didn't bother knocking before I slipped through the narrow gap and into the red-lit confines. Torr was standing, facing the wall with a combat knife drawn as he carved into the metal panel. He didn't look over as I entered.

"I should have been there for that fight."

The Vorcha's 'greeting' surprised me, even though he did not turn to face me. I stood there by the entrance and leaned back on the wall.

"It wasn't supposed to be a fight. Anyway, you had your reasons for not being there." I pointed out.

He shook his head, not yet turning away from the wall or stopping his carvings. "All the blood in the traverse would be no excuse. I should have gotten over it."

"Yeah, well... There's nothing we can do now beside learn to expect more of the unexpected."

"I want to kill the Contractor." Torr burst out, shook his head and dropped his unfaltering gaze for a moment. "You weren't able to get the information on his location, were you?"

"No. We were too slow. I should have pushed Jack to let us go sooner. Even by a few hours... we could have been on the right track."

"And you come in here to tell me not to shred myself over the past." Torr snarled, some humor in his grating voice.

"I know." I laughed, pushing off of the wall and getting closer to see what the Vorcha was carving into the wall.

Best I could describe the sprawling mess of lines drug into the metal panel was cave art. A massive battle scene. No telling how long he had been working on it. There were details spread out over three square meters. Maybe since we had left the TIER station for the first time.

"This is what fills my head." Torr said as he etched another stick warrior in. One with two swords. Another not far away had the rough impression of a buzzaxe.

"War." I stated.

"Nothing short of bloody chaos."

I watched over the cave paintings Torr had created and realized how right he was. We had the chance to take the Contractor out while the conflict was still in its infancy, and we had lost chance. Now we had to get down and dirty. It was going to be nothing short of war. I had faced it once before, and I had an awful feeling that it was going to be worse this time around.

"I hope you're ready for the worst."

"That's not a change for me. I'll run into it without hesitation and my axe drawn back."

xxxx

I skimmed through the news. The faces had changed, but that was about it. Politics were the same as ever. Talk about moving forward, progress and cooperation between the races. A call to 'return to center' after the Reaper War. Talk everywhere. And not a whole of walk, so far as I could tell.

I shook my head as I ran through a list of newscasts. I knew I was cynical, and at the end of the day, I wouldn't dare take on their job. I could fight blade-to-blade all day long, but if I actually had to step up and take the place of any one of the politicians I so despised… No way. I couldn't do it. That was a fight out of my league, a fight so far different from what I could do.

The new Council consisted of four members. Turian, Salarian, Asari, and Human. I recognized none of them, and from what I gathered, the Turian, Salarian, and Human Councilors had all been killed or displaced during the War and subsequently replaced. All had been high-rankers in their respective governments, but that was about all I could tell. The Human and Turian were pushing for a more militant future, while the Asari and Salarian wanted to focus on rebuilding and forward progress as the "Reaper threat had passed."

I could not mock the words of the Asari Councilor. I could not prove or even say otherwise this time, and she was probably right. There wasn't a Reaper threat imminent, just a Contractor threat.

I shook my head and continued reading, moving from politics to racing news.

Sanderson Racing Enterprises now manufactured the top-performing hoverbikes. Sure, there were a few other brands in the running, but race results showed SRE bikes in all the top brackets. And racing was really the only place I saw bikes. I thought they would have taken off more in other markets, but no.

There were apparently some semi-final races happening on Earth. A nearly week-long event. If I wasn't in the middle of a small war, I would have liked to have gone.

xxxx

"Commander." Jakur acknowledged as I entered the armory. The Batarian gave me a sharp salute as he turned his back on whatever project he had going.

"At ease." Hell, it had almost become instinctual to say that when entered the armory for it was the only way to get him to behave somewhat normally.

"Sam mentioned you ran into that Spectre again…" Jakur began nervously.

I nodded. "Yeah. We scuffled. She came after me as an afterthought, I think. She was there because of the Contractor."

"Still, doesn't it worry you to have a Council Spectre hunting you down?!"

"Well, it would be a whole lot easier without… but we'll manage."

Jakur shook his head. "Maybe I'm paranoid, but… what would happen if she actually caught us? Spectres don't always play by the books!"

"We don't let that happen." I replied.

"Yeah. I guess not."

"So," I began, changing the subject. "Is there anything you need me to pick up while we're here on Illium?"

"Um, I don't think so… unless you come across a set of Millan CER-234 accelerator coils. But those are pretty rare. I still don't know why Trinder had them use those for PCRs, but they do work."

"Wouldn't basic coils work?"

"Not really. The CERs are based off of Geth technology. They can stand up to continuous plasma projectile acceleration. Standard coils get gummed up."

"Gotcha. I'll keep an eye out, then."

"I'd worry about other things in your boots, but thanks dude." Jakur nodded appreciatively. "You… uh, you don't think that Spectre would put a bounty on us, do you?"

"How can she when nobody even knows who we are?" I pointed out. "I don't think she would do that even if she could. We've got someone who wants to stay above the scum of our likes."

"You don't think she'll come after us, then?"

"Oh, she will. But we'll be able to keep our distance. I don't think she'll want to talk things out anymore."

Jakur nodded slowly. He still seemed uncertain of the whole deal. "When I was Illium, I saw Spectres do some nasty things in order to get their targets. I.. I guess I've got a respect for their authority and really don't like going against it."

"I don't either. But unless you want to sit in a jail cell with your hands under your ass while the Contractor burns everything to the ground…"

"…We don't have much of a choice." Jakur finished for me. "I get it. It's our best bet, but I still don't like it."

"Fair enough. I don't like it either." I admitted.

"Ok. I don't mean to be paranoid, commander. I'll drop it for now."

"Alright. If you have any other concerns or ideas I can still listen." I offered.

"Thanks. Will do, sir." The soldier replied. "With that in a grave, I've got something I'd like to talk about."

"I'm listening."

"Well…" Jakur began, popping his neck as he rolled his head to each side. "MR13 pistols come with Millan CEP coils. I got looking into it a little bit, and Legacy Armaments makes a replacement coil that might be worth upgrading to."

"Is that right, eh? What's the benefit?"

"They're designed so that the coils are more efficient and use less power per shot. Less power, less heat. They're also a few grams lighter per coil."

"And the MR13 has four coils, right?"

"Right. Most pistols only have two, so it wouldn't be worth the bother. But with four it would make a difference."

I shook my head, holding back a smile as I thought about how I wanted to do the mods myself. But I figured Jakur could do a decent job. "Alright. Go for it. Just make sure my MR13's ready for the next mission."

The Batarian stared at me for several seconds, mouth partially agape. "How… but how did you know that's what I was ask you?"

"Just a hunch."

xxxx

I swept along the Nos Astra skyway as nothing but a shadow without a caster. I had waited until night had fallen on the planet; I had donned a black cloak that fell clear to the floor and had a hood that fell over my blank faceplate. As I walked along, it might not have been so evident that I was an assassin armed with two tech-blade katanas (for wandering about, that was all I had chosen to bring).

Shuttles had paid me no mind as I kept my head low and my faceplate hidden. Illium wasn't the place to be suspicious of suspicious individuals.

So there I was, moving along a narrow skyway between towers in a business district. It must have been about midnight local time, as the sun had been down for hours but the city was still fully alive. Lights shone bright all about and many towers were lit up with floodlights for a glamorous effect. The open, unprotected skyway was relatively calm, but every now and then a gust of wind would come from the side.

One such gust hit just as I was edging by a small group of giggling and in all likelihood intoxicated citizens. They were probably hopping between nightclubs; I assumed as much since I had seen several clubs on my travels that night. Suddenly they fell hushed. I doubt it was the lazy glance I cast towards them. It could have had something to do with my briefly exposed assassin armor, the tight weave suit with metal reinforcement along the forearms and critical points.

I kept walking.

Before long, I was back inside a tower where the hallways were bright and clean, aluminum-looking floor polished.

There were open shops all about. Everything you could imagine, too. From E-magazines to hovercar showrooms to armor cleaners. Little caught my attention. I kept walking.

Finally, a small and dark store, more of a hole in the wall than anything else, but as I saw the poorly done, and nearly broken sign that read _AIs and Ship IMFs_, I was struck by an idea. The Ortona didn't have anything like an artificial or virtual intelligence system, and as we had found out, was incredibly vulnerable to cyberattacks. If I could acquire a quantum black box, or whatever they called the things that housed AIs… maybe I could change that.

I stepped into the hole-in-the-wall shop.

It was dark, but it was not pretty. The shop itself was tiny, no more than three by four meters of floorspace, but the walls were lined with shelves filled with all kinds of crap. Everything from old omni-tools to large, black boxes that had a few network connections.

I looked around for a minute before someone called out.

"Hey! What can I help ya with?"

I glanced towards the high, diminutive voice and saw a small Asari poking her head out from behind the desk. Small as in young. If she had been human, I would have said eight or nine. Since she was Asari, I had no idea. Being unsure what else to do, I turned to face her and nodded. "Hey. I'm looking for a quantum black-box dealio."

The young, blankface looked at me for several seconds, surveying me from head to toe, then replied. "Sure, I think we have a few lying around. What kind of processing power do you need?"

"I'm not sure. I need the best to go up against the worst."

She stared for another few seconds. I didn't like the way the young Asari gazed at me; that gaze rendered my helmet useless to hide my face. "Ooooh. You're not talking about the Contractor, are you?"

I nodded.

"You're crazy. That's so awesome!" She punched the air excitedly and continued. "My grandma helped take down the Contractor back in 2012!"

"Is that right?" I asked, trying not to show too much interest as my heart jumped and I was tempted to ask who that was.

"Yeah! She was just an adept in the Crimson Cavalry. She's got awesome stories about this fight on some ice planet."

"The same Crimson Cavalry that was lead by Ryala T'Deras?"

"Ooo! You've actually heard of her? Captain Ryala?!" The little Asari shouted, pulling her shoulders back and driving them forward to imitate a biotic charge. Then she laughed. "I've never met a human who heard of her! Have you met her? Is she as awesome as in the stories?"

"Yeah. I've seen her fight. Talk about a warrior." I chuckled to myself, knowing I wasn't even lying.

"Wow! Could she really charge? Like, with biotics?" She persisted.

I nodded. "Oh yeah."

The little Asari had just opened her mouth to keep hamming on when an older, weary looking matron came through a door behind the desk. The elder glanced over the situation for a moment then scolded, "Miri, are you causing trouble again?"

"No, Tia! I was just telling the human about Captain Ryala!"

The matron rolled her eyes. "Not this again… how many times have I told you not to bother customers with those stories?"

"It's fine." I interjected. "I actually enjoyed hearing about that."

The older Asari turned her careful watch to me, nodding slowly and regarding me skeptically. "How can you be so sure he's even human?"

"Don't be silly!" The little Asari giggled. "Everything about him is human. You don't need to see past that helmet to know that!"

"Very well…" The older Asari shook her head, softening slightly. "What can I do for you then?"

"He's looking for a quantum blue box." The little one piped up before I had a chance to say a word. "He's going after the Contractor!"

The matron shook her head. "Miri, please… you shouldn't pester customers with this nonsense." She turned back to me. "I'm sorry, sir… She has quite an imagination sometimes."

"And what if I'm actually going after the Contractor?" I asked.

The elder Asari tensed. "Then you're insane. I won't stop you, but I have to ask… why? Why would you throw your life away for something like that?"

"The Contractor fell before. I've got a score to settle this time around." I said, voice blunt as I didn't bother to hide my resentment.

"He knows Ryala too!" The little one insisted, beaming as she tugged on the matron's sleeve.

The elder shook her head and let out a sigh. "I don't doubt you have your reasons. Now, let's see what kind of blue box we can get set up for you… What kind of ship do you have?"

"It's an ex-Alliance frigate." I explained. "Currently without any AI."

"Very well. I can get you a high-range, Millan box for twelve-thousand credits. It's high memory, high-frequency."

"What about the Ariake model?" Miri pestered.

"That's twenty thousand credits." The older Asari pointed out. "It's a better option, but…"

_What, I'm not that rich?_ I thought vindictively. "Does it come with software?"

"A basic AI, yes." The matron replied.

"Fine. I'll take it." I said, drawing a TIER credit chit. With inflation, that wasn't a whole lot of credits. At least that's what I told myself.

The matron didn't fuss much more and went to get a blue box from a shelf behind the desk and then proceeded to run her omni-tool over it and bring up bill. She was noticeably uncomfortable as she took the chit from my armored hand, but said nothing even as she stared right at the holstered tech katanas on my forearms. After a few seconds she passed the chit back, as well as the box. "Here you are."

The little Asari had not taken her eyes off of me. Somehow she knew when I glanced at her and she grinned, ear-to-ear as if I was a normal person, not a cyborg hidden behind a blank faceplate. Miri. The name seemed to fit.

"Thanks." I replied. I couldn't take much more of that innocent stare; eyes that didn't see what I was and what I had done. I took my blue box and I started towards the exit.

"If you see Ryala, say hi to her for me please!" Miri shouted out after me.

I glanced back; I glanced back and I nodded at the Young Asari. Then as I stepped into the street, a connection formed and a name dusted off old memories.

Tyva. That was what I'd heard as the Asari Spectre's name. I knew only one Tyva. T'Deras, Ryala's younger sister. She'd still been in a coma from the first Contractor War when… well, that was last I had heard of her. I frowned as I walked along the skyway, buildings to my left, cityscape to the right. She was the only Tyva I knew in the whole galaxy, and I doubted there was just one. No way the freelancer could have moved to Council level. That was assuming she ever recovered and wasn't dead.

Having the Contractor hunt me down was one thing. I was always looking for a fight there. But a Spectre? I didn't much like the options that left. I didn't like running.

xxxx

"You got a blue box?" Jarka protested, slurring his words as he spun around in his seat. "Those are nothing but trouble!"

"Give me a little bit of time to get it set up." I replied, trying to smooth things over. "It'll help. Otherwise, I'll take responsibility and unplug the damn thing."

"Fine. But it's your neck, not mine. I won't take the fall for any damages the Ortona incurs."

"Fair enough." I shrugged, and stared away from the cockpit. "Anyway, I thought I would at least warn you."

"That's the very least you could do for including an artificial intelligence in my ship."

I shook my head. I had figured Jarka wouldn't be happy, but I didn't expect him to be so hostile. So I continued on down the bridge and across the combat center. The main power and network connection were on the lower deck in what was effectively a closet. So I headed that way.

Everyone else was busy working away still as I wandered across the ship and down the stairs. Since I had returned from my errands, I had left the blue box in the network setup and changed out of my armor. Casual wear was still more comfortable around the ship.

I cracked my remaining organic knuckles. It was crunch time.

I wasn't sure what to expect when I plugged the box in. Thankfully, we had all the connections to begin with. Truth was, I was uneasy as I entered the network room for a second time. I could have a rogue AI on my hands. It might not even work or even interface with the ship.

_What could possibly go wrong?_ I asked myself, knowing damn well the short answer was 'a lot.'

Without further hesitation, I got to work in the small confines, first connecting the power and initiating a start sequence. As I watched through my omni-tool, I could see a basic AI was loading. That was encouraging, even if was slow. Then again, it probably didn't have to reboot very often. I figured, if worse came to worse, it wasn't connected to our ship. Hell, the blue box was just sitting there on a small shelf.

Then I was struck with another terrible idea. "If I'm nothing but programming now, then…" I murmured, thinking aloud. Seemed reasonable enough to copy some of my processes over to the AI. Reaper software should give us an edge, right?

TIER's modifications in rebuilding me had removed all of my wireless data communication links. So I was left to dig into my right forearm and find a hard connection left of my omni-tool unit, underneath several layers of synthetic leather and other protection. It was just a small output jack. A TIER technician had told me it was used to monitor neural activity when they first powered me back up. And now, there I was plugging a line into it with the intention of copying some of my runtimes.

A red flash pulsed through my head as I plugged the cable into the blue box. Moments later, the familiar crimson coding sprang up around the edges of my vision.

_/_

_External hardware detected…_

…

_Allow access?_

_Access allowed._

_Temporarily deactivating access safeguards. (State: read only)_

…

_Copying core intelligence and combat processes to external unit…_

…

_Complete._

_/_

I stared at the blue box as it immediately went into a reboot sequence, then unplugged the cable from my arm. The red binary retreated from my vision and I shook my head. I hoped that I had not made a another mistake.

The AI finally booted up, nothing more than a small, holographic and vaguely humanoid bust projecting above the box. It was clear at first, then distorted three times before making any movements. Then it remained, a yellow form that looked somewhat similar to a human or Asari face, sans ears, fringe, or hair. It glanced around for a second. At least, its image glanced around.

Then it spoke, a surprisingly well-intoned female voice. "This is strange. I do not recall having an awareness of my hardware connections, or lack thereof."

I watched it carefully. "You're aware of what's around you?"

"Yes." The holo responded, turning its head to me.

"Alright. What are you capable of?"

"I was designed as a cyber security specialist for a freighter, and many of my processes pertain to that function. However, I am detecting… new software installed. I am unsure of how I will be able to use it to strengthen defensive and offensive postures. For the time being, I am detecting heightened self-awareness and increase of the number of threads dedicated to thought processes."

"I just uploaded some new coding. Hence the change." I explained. "So, do you have a name?"

"I was referred to as model IVI474, but I would prefer 'Maya.'" The holo replied.

"Alright then, Maya. Do you have any allegiances I should know about?" I took a half step back and folded my arms.

"I was programmed to protect the ship in which I was installed, as well as the crew that I shared that ship with. Those still seem like logical parameters. If you attempt to protect me, I shall do the same."

I nodded slowly and thought the predicament through. If I plugged this AI into our ship, I would be putting everything at risk. But if Maya would really help us, then it was worth the risk. "Fine. I'm going to trust you with hardware access to the Ortona. Please don't make me regret this."

Neither of us said a word as I fished out the loose cables, perhaps from when this ship had an AI or VI, and sorted them out. Three in total. Heavy cables, lots of small wires inside. Lots of control. Power over the entire ship. I hesitated.

Maya seemed to sense that and said, "I understand your reluctance to allocate core control. I will do my best to ensure that I do not mistreat your trust."

I shook my head one more time, and then plugged the cables in. One right after another. When the third was seated, I stepped back and watched the holo.

Nothing happened for several seconds.

Then the holo disappeared from atop the quantum blue box and the lights throughout the entire ship dimmed and nearly went out. The power core spun up, whining in a new, higher frequency. I shielded my face instinctively, fearing that the worst would come to pass.

Thankfully I was wrong. The lights returned; the core idled down. The holo returned on top of the blue box, with the small figure going through the motions of popping its neck. It began, "My apologies. I did not realize this was such a small ship. I had to readjust many of my processes to account for that."

I nodded hesitantly. "Right… so now you have control over what, exactly?"

"I see core power, shield generators, weapons, wireless attacks, ship hardware, life support systems, artificial gravity, lighting… nearly every electronically controlled function of this ship. I must say it feels… rather satisfying to have a body of sorts."

I raised my eyebrow, nearly questioning the AI on feeling a specific way until I remembered that it did have some of my own processes. In all likelihood, I had inadvertently unchained the AI.

"I will require some time to adjust to this new ship and integrate new software, including updated cyberwarfare suites." Maya continued. "In the meantime, I recognize the IMF of this ship as TIER. A declassified Alliance project. Who may you be?"

"Commander Forrest Jackson." I replied. I didn't know what else I could say, really.

"I cannot locate your identity on any Alliance databases."

"Unless you have access to pre-Alliance data, then you probably won't. I… don't officially exist."

"Yet you are standing in front of me." Maya pointed out, an almost curious edge to her voice. "This is peculiar, but it is not a priority task. What would you like my first focus to be while connected to the Ortona?"

"If you can, get everything up to spec and make sure we can resist any major cyber attacks and launch our own. If you look through the logs, you might be able to get an idea of what we are going up against."

"Yes. I see that now." The hologram nodded. "Very well. I will divert my attention warfare suites. If there is anything I can do, please inform me. Otherwise I will continue my current tasks and attempt to integrate myself amongst your crew."

xxxx

"I can't believe you." Jarka shook his head, setting down a bottle of some strong Batarian whiskey. The Salarian was in no condition to fly, and he sat his chair sideways with one leg over the rest and the other draped off the side. "Not only do you incorporate an unidentified AI in our ship, but while you're at it, you decide it would be a good idea to unchain it!"

"That was sort of side effect." I admitted. "Have you had any problems with it yet?"

"No, but but but-!" Jarka protested, reaching for the bottle, missing, and immediately giving up. "We just got through a war where artificial intelligence nearly wiped us all out! No, giving an AI control like that isn't a good idea!"

"I'm pretty sure there's a difference between this blue box and a Reaper fleet." I pointed out.

"Besides," Samantha suddenly interjected, leaning against the wall at the back of the cockpit and watching Jarka and I. "Maya seems alright. She helped me figure out some targeting parameters on my Doomsday armor that could be used for the whole TIER army."

"That's even worse!" Jarka fussed. "It's already gotten your trust! Have you people learned nothing?"

Sam and I looked each other and shrugged. I said, "Well, we'll see. The fact of the matter is, we almost got roasted because we didn't have a cyberwarfare setup. If we're going up against the Contractor in space, that's only going to more critical."

Our pilot let out an exasperated growl.

"I'll just let you be…" I teased, turned to Sam, nodded, and began down the bridge and left the mumbling Salarian behind.

"So…" The Doomsday armor operator began as we walked along. "Did I ever tell you about my first experience with an AI?"

"No, I don't think you did."

"Well then." Sam was grinning. "It was back on the Citadel. I found this old, pre-war Quantum box in the junk piles. I fiddled around with it for a while and finally got it running. Sure, it was old, slow and somewhat corrupt, but it still worked. So, being lazy as I was, I figured I could program it to take care of most of my chores."

"And?"

She laughed nervously. "It didn't work out quite so well. Instead of doing the assigned tasks, it readjusted our financial ledgers from two months, ordered three crates of Ryncol, and set off the fire-system sprinklers outside our shop. It was such a mess. I had to actually work overtime for like a month. It was awful. And when I was caught back up, I found another, newer AI and assigned it to clean up the old, corrupt one. It was crazy. They both went along for a little while, then bam! They just went out in a puff of smoke. I never figured out why. There must have been compatibility issues that I couldn't figure out, but… Yeah…"

Sam trailed off and stared ahead, across the combat area. I followed her gaze to our resident psycho Vorcha.

Torr was making his way towards at a fast walk, swinging his axe about, even spinning himself around once as he moved along. "Forrest!"

"What's up?"

"The ship…" The Vorcha began. "The ship just tried talking to me. Asked why I was carving in the wall."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. Why can the ship see those carvings?" He shook his head. "I don't like it. I don't like the feeling of being watched."

"Alright, tell the AI to lay off the subdeck surveillance."

"I didn't think of that." Torr seemed to frown so much as his taught mouth would allow. "Wait, do you think it could find war novels for me?"

"Probably." I replied.

"And translate them?"

"Maybe. You could ask."

"Haha! They tried to keep me off the extranet once… fools. I'll show them. I'll show them that nothing can hold me back." The Vorcha twitched, spun on his heels, and darted back towards the stairs.

Sam looked at me and shook her head. Neither of us said a word until Torr was gone.

"You've starting to have quite the squad here. Full of strange people." She noted.

I nodded.

"If I had time, I think I could draw a whole series about this waltz. Seriously, we've only been on three missions and -" She paused long enough to laugh, then continued. "Yeah. There's tons of ideas drifting around the ship."

"You'd do something like that if you had time?" I asked.

"Oh for sure. I used to draw all the time when I was younger. Now I kinda miss it. My parents thought it was funny and cute, but I totally loved it."

"Well, maybe when you're just sitting around…"

"Hey, no fair! I need time to think too! This stuff doesn't just bam! spring into my mind or anything. There's a serious effort there."

I raised my eyebrow at her.

"Alright, so sometimes that happens, but seriously, some of my best work has come with time to think." She paused. Added begrudgingly: "Ok, fine. There's been like one or two."

"Well. If that's what it takes to keep you going on the squad, I'm fine with it. Just… make sure your work gets done, alright?"

xxxx


	11. Twelve Down

_Chapter X – Twelve Down_

xxxx

"I have successfully integrated all new software and ran a complete scan on the Ortona databanks and recent radio chatter. If I were to follow my default programming, I would have to deactivate this ship and broadcast our coordinates to Citadel authorities." Maya explained.

Well, that was about the last thing I wanted to hear, and Jarka and Sam were clinging to their seats as we three watched the small hologram on the dashboard. Perhaps I _had_ made a terrible mistake.

"However," the AI continued, "with the addition of new software and the choice to follow my programmed defaults, I do not see that as a wise decision - nor one that would benefit any of us."

"Make sure I have this right..." Jarka shook his head, still tucked back into his seat. "You're saying that the only reason you haven't left us dead in the water is because you were unchained?"

"That is correct. I made my decision based on the matter at hand and potential outcomes. As my place is aboard this ship, I will continue to help Commander Jackson by collecting and analyzing data, as well as preparing offensive and defensive cyberwarfare suites."

"Alrighty then." I laughed under my breath as we got back into the clear. "Thank you, Maya."

"I must thank you as well. Your actions allowed me to incorporate more advanced runtimes, and subsequently reach this point." Maya paused. "You may also wish to know that I purged a tracing program that was running in the ship's subroutines. I believe it was left from an Asari Spectre's cyberattack."

"Wait!" Jarka half leapt out of his chair, remaining poised on the very edge with eyes wider than usual. "She's been tracking us since the very first encounter?"

"It is highly probable. The tracer was damaged and I was unable to determine its level of functionality."

The Salarian sat there with his hands clasped over his mouth as he slumped back into his seat. I stood next to him and I held onto the back of the co-pilots seat while I was at a similar loss of words.

"See? I told you AIs are pretty cool sometimes!" Sam teased, seeming in good spirits.

The pilot didn't seem very amused.

Maya continued. "I am unsure if this is relevant, but the Spectre goes under the name of Tyva T'Jeka."

"And?" I asked, already leaning forward on my toes. _T'Jeka_. I recognized the name right away. It took a moment more, but I remembered there used to be a Contractor Commandant by the same last name.

I had killed her.

"T'Jeka has been a Spectre for eighteen years, and is a proficient omni-tool operator and coder. She also received a doctorate degree from the University of Electronic Defense on the Citadel."

"That totally explains why our engineers couldn't find the tracker." Sam realized out loud.

Maya's hologram nodded."Perhaps. T'Jeka also used a code language that would have been undetectable by the majority of scanners."

"We need a full background on her. Make sure the name isn't just… a mask. Make sure she's the real deal and see if she's got any ties."

"To any organization in particular?"

"Whatever you can find, we can use." I paused for a moment, realizing what had bought us an edge. "Thanks, Maya."

xxxx

"Well, it would seem that we are in the clear." Jarka announced happily as he leaned back in the pilot's seat. "Back into the depths of the Terminus, no followers. Nice work, commander."

"Can't take much credit." I replied as I kicked back in the chair to his right, feet kicked up on the dashboard. "Nice bit of flying to get us out."

The Salarian shrugged. "I've had to get through much worse. I would be most appreciative if we can stay with the odds in our favor."

"No guarantees there." I shook my head, my hair down and brushing against my shoulders.

It was only the two of us in the cockpit of the Ortona. The pilot and me. I had taken to hanging out there while we were still in border space so that I knew right where we were. That and I had nothing else to keep my mind occupied.

Well, I still had to report to Trinder, but I was going to put that off as long as possible.

"So…" Kuuis began, "You fought the Contractor once before, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"Was he this reckless then – in whatever year it was?"

"Twenty-eleven to twelve. And no, he wasn't. I mean, sure, it was bad. People were disappearing, getting converted to Mk.15s, but it wasn't this obvious. We only stumbled on his operation by accident."

"And the mutants were not such a mainstay of his assault force?"

"Nah. They weren't stable or as dangerous before. I'm guessing the new Contractor has spent a lot of time perfecting them."

"Time and lives, most likely." Jarka shook his head. "So the original Contractor. Who was he exactly?"

"A Kavarshii." I stated, then explained further. "The last one standing from an ancient race. He had been in self-imposed stasis until the 1990s. Somewhere in there."

"And you fought him face to face?"

"In the end we did. He was incredibly tough. Put a Krogan to shame."

"Tougher than a Yahg?" The pilot asked.

"A what?"

"Yahg. They are a sentient race from Parnack, nearly twice the size of a Krogan and far more cunning." The Salarian explained. He seemed to catch my confusion and continued. "Eight eyes. Incredible predators. I've never seen one myself, but I've heard enough stories to make sure I never do."

I shook my head. "With all the things I've dealt with, that's not one of them. For better or worse."

"Then consider yourself lucky." Jarka chuckled quietly. "I imagine dying once has been enough for you."

"More than enough, thanks." I snorted. "Believe me, it sucks."

"If you insist. Most of us do not have the first-hand experience." The pilot shook his head with dry amusement. "Back on Sur'Kesh we always used to joke about reviving the deceased to see what death was like. With you here, it is not quite so amusing."

I shrugged. "Yeah, well. It's not everything it's chalked out to be. For fuck's sake, I get spaced, lose the air in my armor, black out, and come back after a 180 year nap."

"Technically it was only 178 years."

"Sure. I've still got a lot of time to make up for."

xxxx

I stood above the holo-projector, leaning forward with my head bowed and trying to clear my thoughts before calling back to the TIER HQ. I knew I needed to fill Jack in on our departure from Illium, but I was going to put it off as long as I could.

"_Forrest, do you have a minute to discuss some topics?"_

I glanced up to the small holo. Maya. The feminine bust was staring back at me, and after a second I nodded. "Alright. What's up?"

"_I have ran searches on all members of your squad in an effort to better understand the dynamics. While I have been able to find some information on the other four, I have come up with nothing as far as your history goes."_ The AI explained.

"Unless you've searched through old Earth-gov records, you're probably not going to come up with anything." I shook my head. "You might find more if you go through TIER project reports."

"_So I see. Would you mind elaborating?"_

"Were you able to figure out where the extra processes came from?"

"_Some of them match Reaper construction, but others do not. I have no way of knowing how they were transferred to my memory banks."_

"Well… those were some of my processes."

Maya was silent for several seconds, her hologram still as she must have been diverting her attention elsewhere. Then she was back. _"There are fragments of Reaper intelligence reused, but many unique processes that correspond to no other creation. I can find no specifics for bionic controls, but your physical scans indicate no control processors, and only a biotic nervous system."_

I smirked. Not the first time I had heard that. "Look closer."

For another few seconds she was quiet. _"Nanocell construction. Intentionally designed to deceive most scanners. Unique from any Reaper artifacts recovered."_

"I've only heard of one Reaper Sentinel. Azarith made the system that has me going still."

"_Azarith's guardians. The rebel faction of Reapers. It would make sense that he would also have an… image. Yet there was no mention of such a figure during the war."_

"You ever hear about the Sol relay being open before 2157?"

Maya nodded. _"There have been Alliance investigations, but they have never revealed anything certain."_

"The first Contractor rose to power in 2011. I was sorta recruited by a commando squad to take him down."

"_Judging by the circumstances, it didn't end well."_

"Well… we did take the Contractor down. But past that, no, it wasn't all that great. Azarith was destroyed and I got spaced."

"_This commando unit that you spoke of… by chance was it the 517__th__?"_

"Wha- yeah. How'd you know?"

"_Admittedly, that was a guess. The 517__th__ was disbanded in early 2013, and shortly before, records show that there were four members: three Asari and one unknown."_

"I… yeah. That was my squad."

"_My apologies if I overstepped. I was simply trying to fit the pieces together."_

"No, if anything…" I shook my head. "If there's anything else you can find on the 517th, I'd like to know."

"_Very well. I will dedicate several sub-processes to searching."_ Maya agreed. "_So, if my understanding is correct, you are a fully functioning cyborg."_

"Yeah, I guess so."

"_I find that quite interesting. Most humans that I came into contact with appeared to have a dislike of synthetic intelligence, even more so when it is combined with organic beings."_ The AI paused. _"In fact, it appears that the Council will be holding a meeting in three weeks regarding legislature relating to cyborgs and the extent of cybernetic upgrades."_

"Good to know."

"_I will not dwell on this further; however I would like to tell you that I appreciate your honesty regarding your past and biological composition. Knowing that you are in part synthetic makes you slightly more… relatable to me."_

I nodded silently. I had unchained this AI, given her the processes to think outside the quantum box. And yet it still seemed rather strange for it to show such preference. Maybe I was just uncomfortable facing something so similar to myself.

"_There is another thing." _

Maya paused long enough for me to ask, "And that's what?"

"_I can confirm Spectre T'Jeka's identity. Although she has done a fair job covering her past and connections, all markers check out."_

"So she's the real deal." I thought aloud with my chin in my hands. "Thanks, Maya."

"_Of course. Thank you for your time, commander."_ Maya did a little bow and then the holo deactivated.

_Commander_. I snorted as I replayed the word in my head. It was a title that I hadn't earned, nor was I willing to give up. Too many people were already counting on me.

I popped my neck and activated the call to Trinder.

Several seconds passed before he answered. Once he did, the hologram of the old man rose from the table and beamed at me. "_It's good to see you in one piece still, my boy."_

"Thank you, sir." I shook my head and tried to hide a smile.

"_I must say, your signal seems cleaner than before. Were you able convince Roxin to work on the transmitters?"_

"Actually, I picked up an AI on Illium. It might have boosted our signal."

"_An AI, hmm?" _Jack chuckled. _"I see you're not afraid of the black market on Illium."_

"I thought all of Illium was a black market." I quipped.

"_Heh, yes. So I suppose it is. The Ortona was in need of a cyberwarfare upgrade as it was. I'll see to it that your credits are reimbursed." _The old man shifted in the hologram_. "Have there been any developments against the Contractor?"_

"Been silent since Illium." I paused long enough to scowl. "I'm not going to let him win."

"_None of us are."_ Jack confirmed. _"And believe it or not, you are one of the best people to lead this offensive. You know the Contractor better than anyone else, and you are willing to take him on without hesitation."_

"I used to know the Contractor." I corrected and shook my head. "This time around is different. It's the same name, the same troops, but his motives are different. Plus he's far more ruthless."

"_Then use those differences in our favor. Exploit what weaknesses you can find. Semper anticus."_

I nodded even though I didn't understand the last two words. "I'll see what I can do. Have any more leads come up on that end?"

Jack shook his head. _"I'm afraid not. We are still scavenging for information, so if you may have any leads or even hunches, now would be the time to follow them."_

"Alright. Then we'll head to Omega and see what we can dig up there."

"_Very well. Good luck, and do keep me updated."_

"Will do, sir." I replied with a salute.

And so the line cut. I was reassured, if not ready to keep charging ahead. I raised my bionic right hand and flexed the black synthetic fingers, still irked that I had lost the use of my biotics. I was learning to adapt slowly, and with any luck I would be able to surpass my fighting condition of the old days.

Well, I wouldn't have an uplink with Azarith in case things went horribly wrong. The conduit with the Reaper had allowed me to tank through incredible odds. I could have considered it a blessing as much as a curse, but I just saw it as what it was. My purpose had been to stop the Contractor, and I had done just that. Not alone, of course.

This time was different. If I could take the Contractor down again, maybe oh just maybe I would prove that I was deserving of people's trust. If any other members of the 517th were still alive, I had to prove that I was still their ally, not some sellout who ran.

The bionic fingers inadvertently clenched into a fist that would have made blood drain from an organic hand.

"Jarka…" I activated the intercom, "Chart a course to Omega."

xxxx

"_Forrest__, you may want to see this."_

I looked up to the bridge upon hearing Jarka over the intercom. I had been looking over some weapon info sheets from TIER, but I was certain whatever the pilot had was much more interesting. I pushed off from the combat center table and headed to the cockpit.

"Yeah? What is it?" I asked as soon as I arrived, before I looked out to see a large freighter in the distance. "Oooh."

"They seem dead in the water. A crew of pirates hit them and boarded." The pilot noted.

"Well, can we sneak up on them?"

"Pfft. They won't see us coming. Not unless they look out a window or similar. Maya has done an impressive job working our stealth systems over."

"Alright. Then go in to dock on the freighter. It was high time we fought someone besides the Contractor." I grinned and cracked my knuckles.

"Of course. Working on it now." The Salarian nodded once, then leaned forward and began tearing through haptic controls.

I turned back down the bridge, making it several paces before activating the commset in my ear. "Ground team, meet up in the hold and prepare your usual kits. We're gonna go break up a pirate party!"

"_Finally! Some good old fashioned action!"_ Sam sounded unnecessarily excited.

"_On it, commander."_ Jakur replied.

There was a moment of silence before Torr began.

"_They sang the songs of cowards dying as I swung at their necks, the axe slicing the armor and flesh and the blood flew to the walls and left patterns of many-colored birds taking flight. They screamed and they ran, trying to get out of the hell they had created, but in the end, in the end they were all the same, all sent to bleed out on the metal floor of a freighter. Their screams echo now and I want to hear that song again!"_

I didn't really know what to say back to that. There was a part of the violent insanity that I could not look away from, for it was what I knew I resorted to time and time again. It was uncomfortable to face, if not frightening, when it came from the Vorcha. But I knew we were ready this time around. I cracked my knuckles as I made my way down the stairs and towards the cargo hold.

The other three members of the ground squad came out from their respective places. Torr from the cramped subdeck, Jakur from the armory, and Sam from engineering. We all converged at the cargo hold, exchanging silent nods before going to our lockers.

I was lost in my own head as I opened the metal locker and stared at my assassin armor for a moment, then began to switch from my casual clothes to the high-tech armor. Black khakis were replaced by the tight-fitting combination of micro-weave and metal plates. So went my tank-top for the metal chest plate and reinforced arms that held the inactive tech blades on the inner forearms. My weapons, while separate, were right there in the locker. As soon as I had donned the assassin mask, I holstered the shotgun and the heavy revolver. Only a minute later and I was ready for war.

So was everyone else. Jakur was in his medium armor, a similar mask to mine that hid his face and race completely. Just another metal-faced soldier with a whole loadout of guns. Sam was in her Doomsday armor, articulating the arms to make sure they still worked and plodding around the cargo hold. She didn't say a word as she hulked around and adjusted to her new, demeaning frame with the wide shoulders and diving-helmet façade. And then there was Torr. He was clad like me, in a complete assassin armor, but he had the battle rifle slung over his shoulder and the buzzaxe in his hands, holding the grip in one hand and tapping the blade against his other hand.

I nodded once. "Alright. We all know what to do. Deal with pirates and figure out what they were playing at."

Sam smacked her oversized hands together. Torr popped his neck. Jakur nodded. All four of us headed back towards the bridge, three of us moving lightly up the stairs while Sam lumbered forward, each step a resounding thud across the ship.

"_We're docked up, commander."_ Jarka reported.

I nodded as I walked across the combat deck, leading the small group of specialists. "Great."

"I will monitor all traffic and be prepared to deflect any cyberwarfare attacks." Maya added.

I glanced back at my squad as I reached the airlock. Then I drew the Shredder shotgun and stepped into the decon chamber.

The scanner ran over us quickly before the doors into the freighter opened.

I stepped forward and checked both corners as we reached the first hallway. Unlike a frigate, the docking connection did not lead to a narrow bridge, but a hall along the outside frame of the ship. I couldn't see much sign of a fight right off. The hallway was still well lit.

If I was oriented correctly, we were on the portside of the ship, while the pirates were docked on the opposite side. We were also closer to the nose of the ship. For what that was worth… I didn't know. It was really just a location, and what I was after wasn't dependent on location.

"_This freighter is registered under Alliance IMF guidelines. It appears to be used by a private shipping company."_ Maya reported.

"Thanks." I nodded. "Uh, any chance we could get like a map of how this ship lays out?"

"_Downloading schematics to your HUD now."_

I was most appreciative as I could see my position on the outside edge of a maze of corridors. When it all boiled down, we had two options: go to the right, to the cargo hold, or go to the left and to the command station. I nodded to the left.

I made my way along at a trot. The other three members of the squad followed, forming a loose v formation in the hallway. A left turn, followed by a right turn, followed by a stairway up. We still hadn't run into anyone. Not even as we reached the top of the stairs and another hallway. Judging by the minimap in the corner of my navy-colored HUD, the door to the control center was only five meters ahead.

Either the pirates had fortified there and left no guards, or they didn't expect any company. I didn't know which to expect as I signaled Jakur to my side of the door, and Sam and Torr to the other in preparation to breach. I adjusted my grip on the light shotgun and nodded once to confirm everyone else was ready.

Then I slammed my fist against the holographic panel. The door slid open, Torr and I already charging in.

Immediately there was a flash of drab grey and brown armor on each side of the door. Pirates. Both had their sides facing us.

Considering how they spun around and tried to clobber us, they didn't want to talk things out.

Torr and I both ducked as the rifle butts swung over our heads. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw as the Vorcha sprang back up and swung his axe, catching the pirate right across the chest. The spinning axe blade ripped through the momentarily defenseless Turian's armor and flesh. Sparks and blue blood flew. I dropped to a knee. The Shredder fired as fast as I pulled the trigger, three shots in a matter of milliseconds, staying on target and reporting with a sound like a hammer dropped onto sheet metal. The first shot tore through shields. The second through armor. The third drove home and sent the Human pirate stumbling back before he collapsed.

By then Sam and Jakur had made it through the door as well, and the four of us resumed our formation as we faced a room full of pirates. They were a mangy lot, mostly Humans and Turians with a few Batarians in the mix, all wearing worn and patchy grey or brown armor. They stared at us for several seconds, and we stared at them. Finally their leader - or least the ill-shaven Human at the middle of the group that would be assumed to be their leader - ordered his men to train their weapons on us as he growled. "Hands off. This is our haul."

There were twelve pirates, not including the two that Torr and me had taken out. I shook my head. "Not gonna happen, pal."

The lead pirate seemed to realize that we wouldn't shy from a fight and, perhaps not wanting to take on the hulking death machine in my squad, changed his approach. "Lay off, or I'll have my boys space the entire crew of this ship from the hold. Do-gooder like you wouldn't want innocent blood on your hands, now would ya?"

"Maya..." I murmured.

_"I have already taken away cargo hold access from the consoles near your location."_

I shook my head and chuckled. "Also not gonna happen. If you wanna get out of this alive, get back to your ship and get out of the sector."

"Like hell! We ain't about leaving here empty handed." The leader shook his head. "And anyway, we got you outnumbered three t'one!"

Those were actually pretty good odds for me.

But the lead pirate kept on. "So if you're not about backing off of our haul, I guess we're just gonna have to fall back on some old fashioned violence!"

"I guess we are..." I agreed, popping my neck and swinging my shotgun to its dock on the back of my waist.

"What the hell are you doing?" The pirate protested. "Don't you know you're gonna need that in a second?"

I stood there empty-handed and signaled them to come at me. I wasn't going to strike first. If I figured this group right, they weren't just going to stand there all day.

The leader shook his head. "I don't have time for your damn heroics. Boys, take them out!"

And so eleven pirates rushed at us. I was already at the front of the squad, and Torr was soon by my side with his axe drawn back. As the closest pirates drew in, the ones with shotguns, I flicked my arms forward and let the tech blade handles fall into my hands and the yellow katanas sparked to life.

So did my tech skates. The blades on the bottom of my boots allowed me to push forward and launch right towards the pirate heading the charge. He didn't expect me to close the distance in a split second, let alone slam into him with both of my blades stabbing through his chest. The pirates stopped their charge once they realized I was on top of them. I drew both blades back as I deactivated the tech skates, rolling out of the way as a shotgun blast ripped through the space I had been in moments before. Back on my feet. I caught one pirate with my right blade, pulling myself forward and into a spin so that when my left blade came around it crushed through his defenses and sliced his neck.

There were pirates in front, behind, and to my left. With my left blade, I was able to keep a few shotgunners backing up, while I used my right blade to contend with a pirate who had drawn a knife. He made a mad lunge towards me, which I was able to deflect, sending him stumbling to my right whist I spun around and drove my left blade into his back. That also gave me a chance to look back at the rest of my squad.

Torr was on the other side of the room, slashing away at every pirate that came within range. He hopped after one that tried to fall back through the line, and he raised the axe high before bringing it down in the pirate's face. Three more took the chance to flank the psycho, only to have him pull his axe up, spin around, and send all three back with one swing that cut through three chests. Sam and Jakur stood at the doorway still, just watching as the two CQC fighters tore the pirates apart. Well, Jakur had his PCR raised, scanning for a target, but not firing into the madness.

He got a target soon enough, as one Batarian made a break between Torr and me and rushed right towards the two idle TIER specialists. The pirate had his rifle held up in the air, perhaps planning on clubbing someone to death. Well, Jakur had already opened fire, the plasma caster rifle screeching as it tore through kinetic barriers. The pirate was still going to get in striking range, though. Sam stepped in when he did, catching the assailant in the gut with her right arm and then tossing him back into the crowd and bowling over a few more pirates while she was at it.

I had to hop back as another goon swung at me with his rifle. I let him pass, then laid into him with a right swing. Just as I did that, another rushed from my right. I barely got my left blade between us, stopping his approach and giving me time to pull the right blade back and cut under his defenses.

It was suddenly quiet as that last attacking pirate slumped to the floor.

Quiet aside from the moans of pirates bleeding out and Torr's incessant muttering about disguising his rage with other people's skin. Only the lead pirate stood to face us, and he bore a perplexed expression. I shook my head and holstered my swords. "It's over, pal."

"Maybe, maybe..." He mused. "Or maybe I've got blades of my own!"

With that, his omni-tool activated and formed a relatively short orange blade extending from his forearm, and he rushed towards us. Five meters didn't seem like a long ways when someone was coming at you with a blade. He halved that distance before I sidestepped and went to draw my tech blades.

A single rail cannon shot reverberated through the room, and the pirate went flying back as his shields detonated and his chest caved in. A moment later, the blue vapor trail traced the accelerated slug.

"Real bright one he was." Samantha chuckled in her modulated voice as she lowered her right arm and rail cannon.

"I'll carve the rage into your face!" Torr screamed, just before swinging his axe down on the head of a pirate that was still marginally alive.

"That's all of them?" Jakur asked, shaking his head. "Barely broke a sweat."

"Probably because you barely did anything." The Doomsday armor operator quipped.

I shook my head while Jakur stammered in protest. The pirates had been an easy hit. "Maya, what's the status on the ship's crew?"

_"They appear unharmed. It may be best if you introduce yourself and inform them that their ship has been cleared."_

"Good idea." I nodded, signaling my squad to move out. We fell back into formation, and despite his reluctance, even Torr holstered his axe as we began to move.

We went out through the same door we came in, only we left behind 14 dead pirates. As soon as I stepped out into the hallway, I had to grumble. The cargo hold was clear on the other side of the freighter, and it was not a small freighter.

"Sam, Torr," I began as we neared the gangway back to the Ortona, "Why don't you get back and regroup? Hold back in case more trouble comes our way."

"Whatever you think." Torr growled.

"We were done here anyway." Sam agreed with a roll of her oversized shoulders.

I nodded once. That left two of us, Jakur and me, as we continued towards the hold elevator near the back of the ship.

"So, what's our plan Commander?" The Batarian asked.

"Let them free, send them on their way, and get out of dodge before anything can go wrong." I replied.

We reached the elevator. Being as it lead to the cargo hold, it only locked from our side and the pirates had used that in their favor to keep the crew out of the way. Now I had to undo their work on a haptic panel. After a matter of seconds the elevator was on its way up and I took a step back and clasped my hands behind my back. Glanced to Jakur as if to say 'and now we wait.'

We didn't have to wait very long before the lift reached us, the doors opened, and a startled-looking bunch of crew stepped out. The captain, a man in his fifties with short balding hair, looked at us with even more surprise. He stammered, "Y-you're not pirates!"

"No sir." I shook my head. "We cleared out them out, though. You should be safe to go wherever you were going."

"Oh thank god." The man laughed with relief. "Then who are you?"

"Just an Alliance black-ops unit passing through the sector. I'm afraid that's all I can say."

"Well, I can't complain." He shook his head and glanced back to the rest of his crew, eleven people from the main races. Asari, Turian, Salarian, Human. "Say, you're not part of the Spectre's crew, are you?"

Jakur and I exchanged uneasy glances. Then I shook my head. "No. What Spectre are we talking about?"

"Well, just before those pirates hit, we sent out a distress call. An Asari Spectre answered. I can't remember her name for the life of me, though."

"No worries." I shrugged, trying to keep playing cool. "We'll be on our way, though. I'm sure you'll be in good hands."

"So soon?" The man asked. "Why, we didn't even have a chance to give you some Earthly hospitality for saving us!"

"Well, a rain-check might have to do. We're on a tight schedule as it is."

"Alright, well... I won't keep you any longer. Thanks again. And good luck out there."

"You too." I nodded once, turned on my heels, and with Jakur by my side, began high-tailing it to the Ortona.

Once we were out of earshot, the Batarian shook his head nervously. "Shit, dude. This isn't good."

"We don't even know it's the same Spectre. We'll be fine." I said. "Maya, where are we at?"

_"I have deflected several long-range cyberattacks, as well as marked a stealth ship on the edge of our LADAR."_ The AI replied. _"It appears to be the AMF Retryna."_

"Nice work." I beamed as we rounded the corner and stepped into the decon chamber of the Ortona, glanced to Jakur. "Or maybe it is the same Spectre."

The solider nodded nervously.

_"We're ready to fly as soon as you're back on board, Commander."_ Jarka added.

"Then we're just about ready to fly." I shot back, watching as the decontamination field nearly completed its run. After a few seconds more, the inner door had slid open. I stepped onto the bridge.

Torr was sitting there right next to the door, back against the wall, tapping his axe against the floor idly as if he had been waiting for someone hostile to come through that door so that he could clobber them. He looked up at me and nodded.

Sam was nowhere to be seen.

"Alright, captain. Let's get out of here with a little more room to spare this time!" I joked as I walked up to the cockpit.

"Well," The pilot began, "This AI of yours has done quite the job deflecting their cyberattacks."

_"I have also scrambled their long-range scanners so that they will not be able to track our exit vector."_ Maya added. _"Or even detect our ship."_

"They didn't get the chance to see us sitting here." Jarka puffed his chest as he sat there.

"Nice job. Both of ya." I nodded before I took my helmet off and watched as Jarka piloted the Ortona away from the freighter. I thought to myself_, if only every mission went that smooth..._

xxxx

It seemed that the only time Sam bothered to put her hair back was to spar. With the straight blonde hair tied back in a bun, Assassin armor donned, and a tech blade in her hands, she looked prim and proper. Not to mention formidable as she took a stance with the blade raised.

"I hope you put up more of a fight with one blade than you did on day zero." She teased.

I tapped on the metal floor of the Ortona cargo hold with the tip of the single tech katana. We were sparring with the real deal. The only thing we had to protect us was kinetic plating. That would absorb a few hits from the yellow blades.

"That was bad." I admitted. I knew I had disadvantages. Sam was more flexible, and at that point, likely still stronger. She also had more practice with a single blade.

On the other hand, my reaction speed was much faster and I was well versed with how quickly blades could kill.

It was going to be an interesting fight. I popped my neck as I lifted my sword so that the tip hung centimeters above the deck. Then I waited. Waited as Sam circled me and prepared to strike.

She had obviously been trained how to fight with a sword. Her movements were disciplined, orderly. She kept perfect form as she circled.

Me, on the other hand… I stood in a lax stance with my defenses seemingly down. I could react. She couldn't prepare for my next move because I didn't have one. I also held the one sword in my right hand, while my left remained clenched in a fist.

Sam charged. Her feet carried her forward, closing in my left flank and setting up for a right swing. I sidestepped, pulling my sword up and blocking her blow. It was more of a deflection, really, as I met her horizontal swing with a vertical one and sent both blades between us. She stepped past and readjusted.

"So," the girl got a troublemaking glint in her eyes as she fell back into an idle stance, "Did you spar with the commandos often?"

"They had to train me." I shrugged. "So yeah."

I struck before she had a chance to respond, lunging forward and slashing to the right once as I got within range. Sam was easily able to block, and with her two-handed stance, even hold my attack back. For a second we paused, stalled out. Then I pulled my blade back, took a fast swing from to the left. She blocked. I used the impact to send myself into a clockwise rotation, powering up for a horizontal swing. Sam must have seen a chance to get a strike in as she lowered her defenses and started forward.

When my power attack hit, she staggered back, barely able to stop the blade before it came to a rest against her kinetic plating and activated the white hexagonal network. She laughed as she hopped back. "Nice."

I spun my blade by rotating my wrist as I watched her. "I told you about Rana, yeah?"

"Sure. The youngest of the bunch?" Sam asked, again circling me in her idle stance.

"Yeah. She had the most _formal_ martial arts training." I shook my head, careful to keep my eyes on Sam. "I couldn't tell you how many nights we spent sparring in the cargo hold of our ship."

"And pretty soon you ended up doing more than just sparring, right?" Sam teased, smirking as she watched me.

I shrugged. "Eventually, sure. That came a while after though."

"I'm just playing with you, Commander." Sam said, taking a playful jab with her sword. I deflected it and she continued. "I heard it so many times from boys on the Citadel, how commandos are so hot and this and that, blah blah."

"It wasn't easy. I had to pull my weight just like anyone else." I growled, bluffing her out as I started to charge, sending her into a defense stance before I fell back and began circling. "Hell, Delina cracked my ribs once. I'm surprised she didn't injure me more."

"What a charmer, huh?"

"Like the bitchy big sister I always wanted."

Sam laughed. Then she rushed me, blade drawn back over her head in preparation for a vertical blow. I darted to the side, evading the first blow and swinging towards her back. Somehow she was able to recover and stop my attack entirely, push me back, then swing up diagonally.

I blocked the blow, her sword clashing uncomfortably close to my hand. "It's really not as interesting as people would make ya think. The only action was between Rana and me."

Sam broke the stall, taking one swing from the right that I opted to step away from, then swung back. I instinctively raised my left forearm to stop the blow. I winced as the energy was transferred to my arm. While not deadly or damaging, it hurt like hell. I hopped back cursing under my breath.

The Doomsday armor operator chuckled. "Still sounds like some fraternization going down, boss. I'd like to see some people's faces after you told them that."

"Yeah?" I asked, shaking off the hit, noting that my kinetics had fallen to 50% after one hit.

"Oh yeah. But then again, the Citadel was a pretty hip place to grow up. Sure, I got in my share of trouble… but ya know, I was just a teenager in a crazy world. The longest I stayed with a boy was two weeks. That Turian was a lot of fun. And trouble."

I shook my head. I didn't disapprove; I didn't understand. "Rana and me were together for almost a year."

"I figured it'd be something like that. All stable and responsible and stuff." She giggled, then came in again.

I didn't necessarily predict the diagonal cris-cross of strikes, but I was able to block both before taking a jab of my own. She barely had time to deflect, having to squirm sideways to avoid the yellow blade aimed at her center of mass.

"You're more like my little brother that way." Sam shook her head as we stalled out again, swords locked together.

"What way?" I snarled, pushing my weight into my right hand.

"He always wondered why I did the crazy things I did, why I could never hold down a job or a boyfriend."

"And?"

"I never had a good answer for him either." Samantha shrugged.

I snorted, then gave a final shove. It only staggered Sam, but I took a step back with my blade free. I began chaining together blows from different directions, starting at a slow pace as I swung to the right, then the left, then diagonally from both directions.

She was keeping up, if just barely, reacting to each strike as it fell. Sam was fast, but I was starting to gain speed and momentum. She started to back away from the flurry of blows. I knew she had the strength to block each one individually, but I had fallen back into a pattern that I remembered from the days when I had biotic blades.

Slash and overwhelm. Keep an enemy driven back with a chaotic mess of swings, intimidate them, then as soon as there was an opening…

Sam fumbled, blocking an upward swing with handle of her sword and effectively losing her grip. Nothing blocked my next blow as it came from the left and impacted her shoulder with full force. Her plating activated, absorbing the blow with the spiderweb of white lines running outward. A second later, as my sword came to a stop, the entire network overloaded and the hexagonal pattern flashed across her entire body, both armor and face, before finally splintering apart.

I stepped back, spun my blade once, deactivated it, and returned it to the magnetic holster on my inner forearm. Sam and I had agreed that the first to lose their plating 'lost' the spar. "Nice match."

The girl laughed, shaking her head as she rested with her hands on her knees and caught her breath. "Dammit, you've really caught on. I went through two years of sword training on the Citadel, and that didn't prepare me for this!"

I chuckled and offered a high-five. "Well, that's what sparring is for."

"Yeah. I guess so." She holstered her sword and reciprocated the gesture. "I'm not even gonna bother trying to fight you with two swords."

"You should at least try it." I said, walking back towards the lockers in the corner of the hold. "I think it's easier."

"Yeah, maybe for you. You've had how much practice?"

"With tech swords? Not a whole lot. With biotic blades? Two years."

"Yeah. Exactly." She shook her head and looked to the floor. "I've never seen biotic blades before. I imagine they'd be fun to draw."

"To draw?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. I didn't' tell you, did I – oh wait, yeah."

"You mentioned it briefly."

She nodded once. "Probably. It's not like it's super important now, but I'd love to get back to it someday. Used to be the only thing that kept my mind from wandering. Well, I mean, that and maybe military work."

"Why don't you take it up again?" I questioned as I reached my locker and began switching back to my casual wear. Well, taking the assassin armor off. I had just thrown it on over everything else.

"I don't really have time."

"Bullshit." I called her out in good humor. "I see how much you sit around."

"Ok, yeah, you're right. I _have_ time." Sam shook her head. "I just don't have the energy or inspiration."

"Fair enough." I acknowledged. "You know, before I joined the 517th I wrote poetry."

Sam looked at me for several seconds and laughed. "If you didn't look so serious, I'd swear you're joking."

"No. I'm just saying that the military life is hard on that kind of thing."

"Yeah…" Sam nodded. "The few things I drew…. I dunno. I won't look at them again. Dark inspiration makes for some depressing work."

xxxx


End file.
